Darker Than Black: A Frozen Stream of Stars
by outwriter18
Summary: After the Hell's Gate Incident, Misaki has led a virtually normal life working for the New Syndicate. Yet when she sees something she shouldn't be able to, and holds a nebula in her palm, she realizes her normal has gone. A certain wraith has returned to Tokyo, bringing with him the next threat to Japan. For in the wrong hands, a single wish can change everything.
1. 0 Black Shadow

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

_A Very Long Author's Note:_

_**Attention Readers of Jigoku No Mon Kara Ju-Seki: **__I've tried re-writing and re-titling this story before, as I'm sure you're all aware, however this will be the final time. My goal here is to complete this version in its entirety so that I can finally move on and create something of my own. As a result, I've drastically changed many things not only because I've figured out the "corniness" of the original storyline/concepts, but also that, should you give it another shot, you won't be completely bored by the same old things. Hopefully the essence will remain, but that's really up to you and what you think of the alterations._

_**Rating:**__ I have changed the rating from M to T again; not because I don't plan on it possibly acquiring the same content that made it M in the first place, but because I want to keep my options open. If I need to change it back, I will, but for now T will do since it hasn't gotten anything I think would require an M rating. If it in fact does need one later on, depending on the substance of the chapter I may just post the reason it would be "M" elsewhere. But we'll see how it goes, eh?_

_**OOC-Ness:**__ I do my best to keep the characters as on-point as possible, but it happens sometimes that what I think is "in-character" may not necessarily be what you consider "in-character". So, as a warning, OOC-ness may be boundless in this fic._

_**Setting:**__ Takes place 2 years after S2: Gemini of the Meteor. On a more personal note, I hated the second season for screwing up what could have been an interesting concept. But since I have a hard time starting in the middle of an established time-line (not that I have a problem with it! Especially reading some of the amazing fics that are here) I began this story based on certain aspects of the second season. HOWEVER, that being said it doesn't follow everything to the letter in what happened in S2. There are certain…continuity errors. Some I was hopelessly ignorant of, some were happy accidents, but a lot were intentional. However, if you see them, feel free to point them out!_

_**Reviews:**__ Constructive criticism is highly encouraged and very welcome. I cannot improve without it!_

_**Updates:**__ I began this some time ago with a plan of updating one chapter every Sunday. Although, at the time I came up with that little plan I had about a chapter and a half in line already written/waiting to be finished. A little while ago, however, I hit a brick wall with some plot holes and, in trying to fix it, lost my lead. Then the stress of catching up and making my deadlines completely screwed with all chapters past 9 or 10, so I'm working now on getting my mojo back and relaxing a little. I should be back at latest by March 1__st__ or 8__th__._

_**Youtube Videos:**__ at the end of every chapter I will be placing a youtube video pertaining to Darker Than BLACK that may or may not be related to the content of the chapter. They're videos I think are pretty cool, and all credit goes where they're due. If you made one of the videos and don't want me posting it here anymore, please let me know and I'll remove it._

_Thank you for your support._

**黒より暗い**

**スターライトストリームの凍結**

**Darker Than Black**

**A Frozen Stream of Stars**

**0****章****  
><strong>**闇夜の黒影**

_Chapter 0_

_Black Shadows_

Kirihara Misaki burst through the rooftop door in a spray of fog, gun in hand and amber eyes searching the cement landscape for any sign of her mark. Her rapid sprint up countless flights of stairs had left her breathing rugged and uneven. The wild beating of her heart echoing the pulses that throbbed in her skull. She could hardly see past the glassy sheen that filmed her eyes, but still scoured her surroundings with an analytical glare.

From the dense white vapor obscuring the graveled surface of the roof, to the diamond-studded sky hanging not so far overhead. Her view of the blackened city unobstructed except by large air conditioners, vents, piping, and other nameless edifices she had not the time to identify. Nothing more than obstructions with which her target could hide behind.

Taking a few steps away from the roof's entrance, the cool touch of a breeze ghosted across her skin. As she moved further from the door, however, it picked up with a mighty gust that snagged angrily at her ponytail and swung shut her only point of entry. Vaguely she was aware of a lock clicking, and the concept of being stuck so far aboveground sent a nervous shiver down her spine.

Pressing her shoulders against the freezing metal of the door, Misaki allowed it to take some of her weight as she collected the rest of her bearings. Far from where she stood, thunder pealed a deep, resonant farewell. The last vestiges of a storm that had so completely ravaged Tokyo, rivers of rainwater still traveled the tarmac. Even at this height, it was a wonder she was not ankle deep in it.

After only a few moments, and though she was nowhere near rested or eager to continue her objective, Misaki pulled herself away from the door. Her lungs felt raw from inhaling the icy air. Her skin sticky with dried perspiration. But still she moved, straightening her posture and her glasses as she went.

Out in the open the wind took the chance given it to cut into her. Chattering her teeth and further releasing her hair from where she had bound it at the base of her neck. She ignored it only by sheer force of will, focusing instead on the heavy silence – or, at least, the many ways she broke it. A light step became loud with the crunch of pebbles, the rustle of her clothing like knives scraping against stone, and even her breathing was an offense. Soft inhales and exhales that froze her teeth = shrill and unbearable; a clamor in her ears she was afraid would block any clue given of her target's location, and reveal her own.

When she finally stopped behind a monstrous air-conditioner to reassess her surroundings, it was with a deep-seated relief. Marred only by the knowledge she had yet to find who she sought. As she eased the white-knuckled grip on her gun, Misaki turned her bespectacled gaze skyward. Searching the array of stars for one particular pinprick of light. On finding the star, she felt, initially, as though a small portion of the burden dragging her down had been brushed away. BK201 had yet to fall.

But no sooner had the relief hit her, than the shame and guilt followed close behind. Reality rising like bile in her throat, her expression twisting as she dropped her sight from the sky to the ground. Her knees felt weak, apprehension stiffening the backs of her shoulders. The very thought of the part she would soon play in unfolding events causing her throat to burn and grow tight. A feeling that grew increasingly more real, and with a horrified lurch she pulled one hand from her weapon to cover her mouth. A last ditch effort to prevent the wave of negative emotion from taking physical form.

As further unbidden thoughts crossed her mind, however, her last meal slid acidly back up her throat. The horrendous noises that accompanied it somehow far worse than the act itself. Tears stinging her eyes as she finished, wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve.

Stubbornly she forced herself past the episode, freed hand now clutching her abdomen while she internally berated herself. Not only for the noise she had emitted, but for giving in to such weakness. For listening to personal feelings in a situation that should have garnered only those of professionalism. A session of self-loathing that instantly halted when a sound from behind stalled normal brain function. Listening and waiting for the one who had heard her to make their presence known.

It took everything she had not to shriek at the small black blur that darted from around the corner. Automatically using both hands, she aimed her gun at the intruder as it alighted not a meter away from where she stood. Midnight wings flapping against the fog that attempted to obscure its sleek black body. Not what she had expected it to be, Misaki relaxed only marginally, continuing to aim at the animal currently studying her with beady eyes.

Its entire posture exuding an utter disregard for the weapon that could burst it into a raining cloud of feathers, the bird snapped its beak with a sharp _click_ then said in a familiar, dry voice, "Don't shoot me, Kirihara. Your target is much bigger than I, if I recall correctly."

Sagging, Misaki dropped her arms, one hand freeing itself to brush back frazzled bangs twisting in the air. "What are you doing here, Mao?" Her voice was raw and hoarse, the indignation she felt barely peeking past her wheeze.

Head twitching, the bird – crow – that was Mao clacked his maw once again, "I cannot stay long, but I can tell you that _he_ is heading _your_ direction. Thanks to the scuffle below, he has only one way out, and that would be the maintenance crane on the far end of the building, straight ahead of you. I suggest you take the chance, Kirihara, before things get worse."

With a confused blink, before Misaki could manage a response Mao spread his wings and flew rapidly upward. Disappearing into the night sky. For a moment she stared into the space he had once occupied, mind racing, then like a knife the guilt she had earlier experienced stabbed into her chest. This time she was more prepared, and shoved back.

She had no more time to wail and cry about the wrongs she had no time to right, no time to change what had to be done. She had to finish this before it got any worse. Closing her eyes against the anxious pounding of her heart, Misaki again gripped her gun with both hands and set back to wait.

It did not take long.

The sound of hushed footsteps crunching almost inaudibly over graveled ground reached her long before he passed. Her eyes snapping open in time to catch his familiar black coat trailing behind him. Every step he made pushed at the fog clinging to the rooftop, and it seemed as though he were _floating_. His figure a darker patch of black against the murky horizon. In one hand she saw the gleaming edge of a dual-bladed knife, the last of many, and in the other a smiling white mask. Or at least what remained of one; only the top half had endured partially intact, what was left flecked by a thick red liquid.

Steeling herself against the disgrace that returned with a vengeance, Misaki took one firm step to solidify her posture and resolve. Her arms moved slowly upward, pointing the deadly end of her gun his direction, and when she spoke it was with a raspy authority that surprised her.

"Stop H – BK201 – or I _will_ pull the trigger!" she exclaimed, and half expected him to ignore her.

His coat snapped like a whip as he whirled, baring his knife her way hardly five meters from her position. Dark eyes were wide with exhaustion, and a long bloody slash on his forehead had since reddened one side of his face. Black bangs stuck to the wound, further straining his attempt to see as crimson trickled into the eye below. A dark bruise spread around his neck, and while she couldn't see any other injuries past his black clothes, she highly doubted that was the extent of it.

Tearing herself from the concern she wanted to feel, she instead placed all concentration on her task. All she needed was to have him caught, and caught now, or risk everything she had ever done up to this point falling apart.

"Don't be a fool, _Kirihara_," he said acidly, straightening his posture and relaxing his defensive position, navy blue eyes boring into her own amber gaze.

"I can't let you leave," she maintained, her call slowly deteriorating in her throat when it came more as a plea than demand.

Eyes narrowing, the Black Reaper turned the knife in his hand, etching a meaningless sketch into the fog.

"_Why_?" he strained in an accusatory volume, "You _know_ what will happen, you _know_ what she wants. If I leave she _will_ follow; you aren't her target anymore. Misaki, _what are you doing_?"

Jaw clenching and fingers twitching around the heavy metal in her hands, the woman was silent a moment. Quietly mulling over their haphazard, ever-evolving relationship. From one point to the next they were always changing, adapting, advancing, regressing, but through it all they always seemed to end up at the same point. Always on the same side, but never at the same time. Except for what seemed like scattered milliseconds. When outside forces had drawn back enough not to matter.

She should have known better than to extend those moments.

"Don't," she responded in a shaky voice, taking a step forward.

"_What_?" he demanded.

"Don't assume you know what's going on here. There are plenty of things you don't," she grated, her voice starting strong but waning when she realized what she had been about to confess.

Time stopped then, and the only sound was that of a far off peal of thunder. Then the building shook with what felt like a monstrous explosion some levels down, and the sound of shattering cement and crumbling glass reached them only distantly. A detached echo that reminded them of their present condition, but did nothing to interrupt their play.

Meanwhile, Misaki battled with herself, the stress of her situation growing stronger. Her hands shook as she tried to decide whether to tell him now, or never. If she _did_ there was no gauging how he would react, but if she _didn't_, he could die without ever knowing the one thing he had a right to. Finally forced to think about it, in the end it really _wasn't_ her choice.

Opening her mouth to speak what she knew she had to, she was ultimately silenced when he moved. A short, humorless laugh pulled his head to the side as he contemplated something briefly, then looked back at her. His gaze was steel determination and resolve. He shook his head ever so slightly as he spoke, laying his judgment at her feet.

"You still had a choice, Misaki, and from what I can see, you've made it,"

Her sight dropping from his to the gun aimed his direction, then back up again, her stomach churned when she realized she agreed with that statement. He was right. Her actions had and always would speak louder than anything she could ever say, and right now she was, once again, wrong. Pointing her gun at the one man she wanted to trust, and to have trust her.

As he made to continue in his escape, Misaki took an involuntary step forward and applied careful pressure to the trigger. Not squeezing entirely, but close enough that even a fraction of added force would set the mechanics in the weapon working.

"Don't make me do it, Hei," she finally appealed, her voice resilient, "just come with me,"

Pausing, BK201 heaved a frosted sigh, facing her with a posture of rigid indifference.

"I'm not making you do anything, Kirihara Misaki. You do whatever you have to, and I'll do what I have to, because this time, there is no third option."

As he turned away, Misaki stood in shocked quietude. With the cost of her decisions staring her blankly in the eye, she knew she was being faced with another, single, obvious choice. Shoot and do her duty, or wait for everything she had accomplished to dwindle into nothing. He would disappear once again, no doubt indefinitely, never knowing the knowledge that burned Misaki's throat. Or, the changes she had helped to bring about would die, and Japan – along with the rest of the world – would sharply relapse.

While she contemplated her choices, a breeze suddenly picked up and threw the tail of his bullet-proof coat high into the air, exposing his back. Everything stopped as the choice seemed to make itself for her, and just as she squeezed the trigger a loud crash sounded from behind, echoing the gunshot.

Her hands absorbed the weapon's recoil, jerking her arms, and she closed her eyes against the consequences, tears streaming from between her lashes as the cacophony to her back grew louder.

**End Chapter 0**

_Darker than black amv remix two steps from hell_

_-by: facotex_


	2. 1 Silver Linings

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**1****章****  
><strong>**希望の兆し**

_Chapter 1_

_Silver Linings_

It was early in the morning hours, and dawn was still segueing into daylight. The atmosphere outside was dark and frosted. The sun a bare halo of light in the distance glowing hazily above a skyscraper-lined horizon of Tokyo. Few traversed amidst crisp air that froze every breath and bit every nose. Only those brave enough wandering beneath an orange-tinted sky so early on a Sunday.

This particular day, Kirihara Misaki was _not_ one of the brave few. Tucked beneath heavy blankets, she lay in bed neither fully awake nor fully asleep. Her thoughts buzzing and gliding past the work-related topics she could never completely ignore on a day off. Planning her Monday step by step with an offhand dullness interrupted only by short, nonsensical half-dreams.

It was only when the cry of a car horn sounded on the street below her window that she finally roused enough to look at her alarm clock. Disappointment at the glowing red numbers of 6:06 causing her eyes to roll. She had been hoping for at least a longer-than-usual shower before her 7:15 appointment. With only a little over an hour left, however, that option had quickly flown out her window to be run over by the car that had woken her.

Sitting up, Misaki rubbed the sleep-grit from her eyes and reached for her glasses on the nightstand. Only to flinch back when her fingers brushed against something soft and warm. Though when she looked, a small smile quirked her lips.

If not for the even rise and fall of his sides, she would have thought the flying squirrel sleeping on a small pillow next to her lamp nothing more than a statuette of sorts. Whiskers twitching and ears flicking as he dreamed. It had been two years since the animal-possessing Contractor had decided to accompany her, and she had yet to learn to call him by any other name than "Mao". Despite the inaccuracy the codename now presented toward his new host.

With a sharp exhale of contentment as she stretched, the thirty-one year old ex-cop rose sorely from her bed, kicking her legs over the edge in a flurry of blankets. Her stomach growled hungrily as she strode toward her dresser, but pointedly ignored it. Instead snatching the outfit she had put together the day before and heading toward the bathroom.

Setting her clothes on the counter, Misaki turned on the shower and began to strip, tossing her short pajama bottoms and tank top into the laundry basket. While she waited for the water to warm, she stared at herself in the mirror, pinching the skin of her stomach between forefinger and thumb. It could never be said that Kirihara Misaki did not take care of her body. Though those who knew her sure tried enough to point out that her intake of greasy foods would suggest otherwise. She still exercised to make up for it, whether or not it seemed she had time; which often she, technically, didn't.

Employed at the public-named New Syndicate by being one of its founders, Misaki had little free time. Fighting to create a world where both Contractors and humans could coexist was far more important than her occasional swim or visit with old acquaintances. Her job was also the very reason Mao still hung around, the goals of the New Syndicate proving beneficial to his circumstances; his choice to aid their cause had only been logical.

Shaking her head, Misaki slipped into the hot water of the shower, working her fingers through her long hair. Another small smile ghosted across her lips, remembering the past two years with slight, frustrated contentment. Support to their cause had been slow in coming at first. However, as they continued to gain ground against the prejudices swirling around them, their list of benefactors began to grow. Even if some of them were rather questionable, she did her best not to let it bother her. After all, if she looked close enough, there _was_ a silver lining.

With each small victory, and with every support they gained, knowledge of Contractors was becoming far more widespread. Education, especially _factual_ education about Contractors, their abilities, and limitations, was key to the New Syndicate's success. The more people knew, the less likely they would be corrupted by governments who wanted nothing more than to use them for their own gain.

By the time 6:50 had rolled around on her wristwatch, Kirihara Misaki had completed her morning routine with twenty-five minutes to spare. Finishing off with a final, thin swipe from her tube of lipstick. Then, stepping back from the counter, examined her appearance in the full-length mirror occupying the bathroom door.

While Misaki did not consider herself a "fashionista" of any kind, she was getting better due to the constant tutelage of her long-time fashion _sensei_. Although she could not quite grasp them before, she had adapted quickly to the freedoms of self-confidence and feminine dignity. Along with the knowledge if she did not take advantage of her youth now, she would never have the chance again.

For this particular day, she had dressed for the weather and the prospect of spending her day outside in it. Except for the wispy bangs that cupped the sides of her face, she had pulled her long straight hair into a passable bun and added a large black clip for good measure. Below shapely brows were her blue rimmed glasses, and hidden behind the bangs to either side of her cheeks were silver earrings adorned by sapphire teardrops. A matching necklace circled around the collar of a black, form-fitting knit turtleneck. Her dark blue jeans were slim, and clung to ankles that would soon be covered by the knee high boots set neatly at her front door.

Satisfied enough with her reflection, Misaki headed briskly toward the kitchen as her stomach gurgled its demands, brushing a bit of squirrel fur from her sleeve as she went. Discovering Mao awake as she entered the room, his host munching contentedly on the peanuts she had set out the day before.

"Well, you're certainly well-dressed today," he commented, stuffing another peanut into swollen cheeks. "Are you trying to impress someone?"

"Good morning, Mao," Misaki greeted, looking through the cupboards for something to quell the hungry clenching of her stomach.

"Good morning," Mao said, stretching an occupied paw toward her. "Almond?"

"No, thanks," she replied, but just as she reached for a box of honey buns was instantly halted by the ringing of her doorbell.

For a moment she considered ignoring it, but knew that if she made them wait a hail-storm of insults and feigned hurt would surely follow. Closing the cupboard with a disappointed frown she then headed for the door. Not bothering to look through the peephole, merely opening it wide to reveal the brightly dressed figure on the other side.

"Ishizaki Kanami, you are _early_."

**((**))*1*((**))**

"You're going to get fat if you're not careful."

"I am not," Misaki said, punctuating her petulant tone by taking a massive bite of her McDonness burger.

Rolling her eyes, Ishizaki Kanami then proceeded to snatch one of her friend's fries, "You're not twenty-nine anymore you know, or even thirty. You're _thirty-one_, Misaki, heading straight into the years of a middle-aged woman. And that alone will make the pounds grow without you eating your way to a heart attack."

A second too late to slap Kanami's red nails, Misaki ignored the humorous snickering of their furred companion. "Stop eating my fries if you're so worried about weight, _Kanami_, and stick to your salads. At least I'll have enjoyed eating towards my heart attack; better than those cigarettes _you_ smoke."

"Hey, that's lung cancer, not a heart attack. Besides, I haven't smoked in two months! How much fast food have you _eaten_ in the past two months?" Kanami said snidely, waving a carrot in front of Misaki's nose.

"At least enough to have killed a dozen cows," Mao interjected, licking his paw nonchalantly, "not to mention the honey buns and donuts."

"Okay, so maybe I should cut back a little," Misaki shrugged at Kanami's faux-horrified expression. "But since you conned me into trying on every piece of clothing at practically every store in Tokyo, I've earned this one. So shut it," she finished with a resolute bite of her hamburger.

Rolling her eyes comically, Kanami allowed the subject to drop in favor of far more intelligent conversation. "So, have you called Kishou back yet?" she asked and then chuckled at the disgruntled look on her friend's face.

As she remembered the skinny, overly friendly man with distaste, Misaki shook her head. Her tone was flat as she said, "The 'good catch' you set me up with last week? No. You know he has a record, right?"

"Ugh, don't tell me you asked Saitou to look into him," Kanami groaned, lips twitching as she attempted to conceal an amused smirk.

"Apparently he has a _balloon_ fetish that earned him some minor jail time, can you believe it?" She whispered conspiratorially. It was only when the astrophysicist broke out in hysterics that realization dawned. "You _knew_!"

Leaning back in her chair, Kanami gave Misaki a conspiratorial wink. "Well he _is_ one of Makaio's correspondents. You had to know he'd be a little…different."

"Different like your Hawaiian ex-boyfriend different, maybe, but that was just plain weird. Maybe something like that wouldn't be a problem for some people but you know I'm not that…eccentric," Misaki cringed.

"How _is_ Makaio doing?" Mao queried, rescuing Misaki from the awkward conversation she had become subject to. Earning him a carefully concealed glance of gratitude from his female partner.

"Wonderful! Actually, he's coming to Japan in a few months for a conference," Kanami said around a forkful of lettuce and spinach.

"Are you going to see him?" Misaki asked, glancing out the window at the passing pedestrians.

"Of course! Just because we broke up doesn't mean we can't be friends. It _was_ a mutual thing, what with my coming back to Japan and all," Kanami smiled, "You _will_ be introduced. Don't think you'll be able to get out of it, either."

"We've already met, Kanami," Misaki replied moodily.

"Skype doesn't count," she retorted, leaning triumphantly against the back of her chair.

"Have you considered going back to Hawaii?"

Cut off from any sharp reply she had been about to deliver, Misaki turned a startled gaze instead on the flying squirrel. Equally as surprised by the question, Kanami raised a carefully groomed brow. Considering the mammal and his question.

"They have been asking for your return, haven't they? And it's not as though it would be a rash move. Career-wise it would be a smart one," Mao continued, reaching for one of Misaki's fries and licking the salt contemplatively. As though he weren't being stared down by the two women on either side of him.

Leaning forward to place her elbows on the table and set her chin upon folded fingers, Kanami stared thoughtfully inward. Considering her response before saying, "Sometimes. I mean, when the observatory here in Japan was shut down and Madame Stargazer moved to Hawaii, I went along just because I'd been working with her for so long. With nowhere else in Japan I wanted to go to continue my career, I based my decision, believe it or not, on the most logical choice. Even if it meant leaving behind everything I knew. But when I got there and really started delving into the mysteries of our false sky unhindered by the drama of Contractor crime-fighting, my move began to feel like fate, or destiny, or something. I learned a lot, met Makaio, and lived a pretty calm life for a while.

"But it got so boring!" she exclaimed tersely, giving Mao a broad smile. "You're probably wondering how the hell _Hawaii_ could be _boring_. Those two words can hardly exist in the same sentence without the world imploding. But it was. The normal day-to-day tasks and strange lack of Contractors was so damn dull that when the opportunity to come back her came up, I had to take it.

"And I have to say, it was like a breath of fresh air going back to my old work space reopened by your New Syndicate. Although I don't get to be with Madame Stargazer, with the experience I gained working in Hawaii I think I've become far more qualified to complete the tasks I've been given. The Shion Network is definitely fascinating, and working with Kobayashi and Oreille isn't half bad. Not to mention the pay! Oh god, the pay," she finished dreamily and Misaki, who had started out feeling a little uneasy at the beginning of her narrative, relaxed enough to smile by the end.

It had been tough not having her best friend around those two years, especially when all hell broke loose amidst the Izanami and Izanagi collusion. The Hell's Gate Incident. But now she was back and was the same Ishizaki Kanami that Misaki remembered and loved.

In the lull of interesting conversation following Kanami's confession, Misaki allowed herself to drift off, munching on the last of her fries while looking out the window. Only vaguely aware of the discussion between the Contractor and the astrophysicist.

When their conversation began to attain a little heat, however, she broke somewhat from her concentrated study. But when she made to turn to alleviate the coming argument, her eyes caught something she had never seen before, and stopped. Fry slipping out from between her fingers halfway to her mouth, she was instantly mesmerized by the thing she saw.

It stood unseen by any in the teeming masses, hidden away within the narrow opening of an alley across the street. A wavering figure composed of several shades of blue that moved and twisted within the confines of a distinctly human form. A girl with a lithe body and long hair that blew in a wind that should have been blocked by the alley walls. For some reason she seemed elusively familiar, the nostalgia prickling the hair on the back of Misaki's neck.

For the most part the girl was featureless. Except for her face. She did not have eyes, a nose, or a mouth in the technical sense. Instead her face was occupied by three black holes. Holes that drew Misaki's gaze. Sucking away any previous contentment she had felt in presence of good company. They bored into her and enticed her complete attention in the exact same manner they pushed and repelled her. Misshapen gaps in the face of the blue girl that echoed every darkness and malicious intent despite the sheer harmlessness in which she held her position in the alley.

Yet the strangest part about her was that nobody else noticed her presence. Despite her wraithlike stance, staring at nothing and taking in everything. Why did it seem nobody else could see her? She was luminescent blue, regardless of her hiding place.

Then, Kirihara Misaki blinked, and the figure was gone. Gulping in a stunned breath, Misaki slapped her hands on the table as she stood, her face so close to the glass her nose almost touched it. Unaware of the ruckus she had caused as her companions' exchange promptly halted, along with the conversations at the few occupied tables next to them.

"Misaki? What's wrong?" Kanami asked worriedly.

"I…I don't know; I thought I saw something," she whispered, having barely registered the question, refusing to believe that what she had seen had been nothing more than a mirage of some kind.

"What are you talking about?" Kanami asked, coming up to stand by her friend and following her line of sight. "I don't see anything…"

Shaking her head, throat tight, Misaki traded a glance with Mao and Kanami. Slowly, she backed away from the window and set herself into her chair. Halfheartedly she attempted to regain the comfortable atmosphere that had preceded her seeing something that might not have existed. But instead found only complete disinterest of everything except the memory, quickly giving up on finishing her meal as she twirled a fry between her fingers.

"Never mind," she said offhandedly, ignoring the surprisingly concerned look Mao was directing her way.

"What do you mean 'never mind'? Do you just expect us to ignore your behavior…?" Kanami asked in an exasperated tone.

"Yes, Kanami, I do. It was nothing, honest; just my imagination," Misaki replied curtly.

"Kirihara," Mao said as Kanami rounded the table to retake her own seat, "are you _sure_ it was nothing?"

Studying the small Contractor, for a moment Misaki contemplated explaining what she thought she had seen. But ultimately decided against it. It wouldn't do to worry him over something she couldn't prove had been there at all. Though she didn't want to, or quite believe it, she had already begun to convince herself it _had_ been her imagination, after all.

"I'm sure, Mao. Now, what were you two talking about earlier?" she asked in feeble attempt to change the subject.

Opening her mouth to respond, both Misaki and Mao were shocked to hear an insistent ringing coming from Kanami's throat. The two of them froze in astonishment, and even Kanami seemed astounded, until Misaki realized it had been her cell phone, not Kanami that was ringing. Eyebrows then raised at Mao's amused chuckling, Kanami watched intently as Misaki pulled her cell from her pocket.

"Kirihara," she said into the receiver, and was shocked by the familiar voice that replied.

"It's Kobayashi, I need you and Mao to come to the New Syndicate right away; and pick up Miss Ishizaki on the way if you can," the Director of the New Syndicate said shortly.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Misaki asked hesitantly, giving her friends a worried glance.

"Just hurry," Kobayashi said, and hung up.

Dropping the phone from her ear, Misaki stared at it a moment before acknowledging the curious gazes sent her way. "That was the Director; he wants us to go to the New Syndicate."

"Seriously? Why? What's happened?" Kanami asked.

Pocketing her phone, Misaki shook her head and stood. Heading toward the door as she spoke, her companions quick to follow. "He didn't say, but he wants me to bring Mao and collect you, as well, before heading there."

"Well, I guess that puts an end to our playtime then, doesn't it," Kanami said with finality, trailing Misaki into the parking lot and toward her shopping-stuffed Mini Cooper. "He does realize today was your day off, right?"

"Director Kobayashi would not have called unless it was important," Mao said as he leapt into the cramped vehicle and onto the console. "Let's just hope it's not the start of something again."

Thinking back to the blue shade still shadowing her mind's eye, Misaki knew she ought to agree. Japan had experienced plenty of trouble in the past four years. The last thing it needed was another tragedy. But, at the same time, she couldn't help the thrill of excitement that fluttered within her belly. For the past two years she had spent most of her time, it seemed, fighting a losing battle with the excessive amount of paperwork constantly sent her way. Now it appeared her routine would end, and it was about time she got some excitement.

**End Chapter 1**

_Darker than Black – AMV – Running Up That Hill_

_-by: xXDeathsCrusaderXx_


	3. 2 Blue Beginnings

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**2****章****  
><strong>**青い初め**

_Chapter 2_

_Blue Beginnings_

The official headquarters of the New Syndicate was a dull blue, three story building located not far from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. It was not large by any means. Just big enough to give them a presence within the business community, but small enough not to be a threat. Its lawns were bright green and carefully manicured, and voluptuous trees grew in equal distances from each other along its perimeter. The parking lots were litter-controlled by the presence of trash cans and recycle bins, and solar panels glinted on its roof. Its front was an architectural beauty, its back composed almost entirely by windows.

However, despite all efforts put into their appearance, the public view of the New Syndicate had yet to be much improved. Their open affiliation with Contractor rights groups, and support to the Contractor cause, garnered little favor. Especially with those who chose to believe Contractors nothing more than tools for the government. Which, unfortunately, represented much of not only the Japanese opinion, but the rest of the world as well.

The name they had come to own also seemed to cast its shadow over them. Misaki knew that, as anybody in her position and with her past experience should, there was no doubt the New Syndicate had ulterior motives. That dark-doings beyond her knowledge were going on within the inner circle she was _not_ privy to. But as the workings of the original Syndicate came to light, society had begun to suspect the new and old had much more in common. No matter what the New Syndicate did, the original would always cast doubt into their actual goals.

Sometimes Misaki did wonder what Kobayashi and Oreille weren't saying, and if the people were right not to trust them, but she was also grateful that they didn't tell her. If she knew what was really going on within the New Syndicate, she would no doubt leave to fight it from the outside, or stay and combat them within. She wouldn't be able to help it. So, Misaki's duties had been relegated to what went on in the outer rim of their daily dealings, and not the inner circle.

On entering the pristine lobby of the New Syndicate, Misaki, Kanami, and Mao were immediately assaulted by the strong perfume and scanty clothing that made up Director Kobayashi's secretary. Tsukahara Ayaka, 27 years old, was not what Misaki would call a respectable professional. For not only was she always dressed in too-short skirts and too-revealing blouses, but her attitude was that of brash condescension. Not even Misaki was shown such courtesy as the Director where Tsukahara was concerned, and she was only a rung or two beneath him.

"Kirihara," Ayaka greeted snidely, brushing hair dyed an impossible shade of blonde back behind her shoulder. "Director Kobayashi is expecting you."

"I'm aware, Miss Tsukahara," Misaki replied, sweeping by the girl in a way that was not quite disrespectful, but close.

"If you will follow me, then," Ayaka continued, ignoring Misaki's words and striding up ahead of her. As though she had been leading them through the lobby all along.

Forced to slow down, almost tripping Kanami in the process, Misaki did her best to smother her irritation. But after giving her friend a glance, irritation quickly turned to slight alarm as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. Unlike Misaki's exterior calm, albeit somewhat forced, Kanami appeared as a raging inferno about to explode. Of the many rumors that swirled among the employees at the New Syndicate, there was one that was not exaggerated. Ishizaki Kanami and Tsukahara Ayaka did not get along. A notion turned to fact in the previous year's Christmas party when Kanami had outright punched Ayaka in the face.

"Why is the Director calling us in, Miss Tsukahara?" Misaki asked, more out of formality than actual interest in anything she had to say.

"The Director did not reveal that information," Tsukahara replied tersely, her tone suggesting her reasons for being so much more remarkably brusque than usual. It was not often she was left out of the loop so obviously.

Knowing she was being childish, but unable to pass up the opportunity, Misaki said in as even a tone as she could manage, "I'm surprised you don't know. Did he tell you _anything_?"

From his place on her shoulder, Mao snorted and coughed to hide a snickering laugh, but Kanami plainly grinned. Though she felt somewhat unprofessional in doing so, Misaki could not help heckling the _girl_ – woman seemed too mature a term – as mild as it was. It wasn't like _she_ could just punch her in the jaw whenever she became annoyed.

Stiffening at the comment, Ayaka said in a tight voice, "No, unfortunately not. All I know is that I am to escort you, Mao, Kichida, and _Ishizaki_ to the Directors office, then leave you to discuss the situation in private."

Her mind skipping over the tone placed on Kanami's name, Misaki's eyebrows rose in surprise at the mention of another. "_Kichida_? Chief _Kichida_ _Toru_ of Foreign Affairs?"

Casting a triumphant glance over her shoulder at Misaki as they rounded the last corner to the Director's office, Ayaka nodded. "One and the same; in fact, he arrived before you only a moment ago. Punctual, as usual," she replied.

Frowning only slightly at the comment, Misaki couldn't help trading an uneasy glance with Kanami as they reached the mahogany double doors of Kobayashi's office. Her mind raced, wondering what the situation could possibly be that had caused _Kichida_ to be involved, while Ayaka opened the doors and ushered them inside.

In their efforts to distance themselves as far as possible from the image of the original Syndicate, the New had taken to philanthropy. Funding educational systems, select charities, as well as certain public safety groups. One of which, invariably as a nod to Misaki's history as its one-time chief, was the Section 4 Foreign Affairs unit of the Public Security Bureau. The very same that, after the initial panic of the Tokyo Explosion had subsided, had been disbanded. Only to consequently be reestablished after the Hell's Gate Incident two and a half years. A necessary response to the American takeover of the now inactive Hell's Gate.

Although, as much of an asset as they were, the very existence of the new Section 4 continued to be tentative. Meant primarily as a crimes unit, they were not _wholly_ qualified to handle a situation of such a _sensitive_ nature between the American and Japanese military. But they still tried. Aiding from time to time in undertakings between the two governments. Often joining forces with a small investigation team of the US in cases involving both Americans and Japanese. Especially those concerning Contractors.

Because of the speculative, and therefore public nature of Section 4's reestablishment, the funds the New Syndicate sent to the PSB was a way of killing two birds with one stone. It ensured two things: The first a way of showing that while they supported a Contractor's rights to be treated the same way normal humans were, they also acknowledged that some were still a threat. A threat that would be neutralized if need be, by those with the necessary experience and knowledge. The second was that it guaranteed if the New Syndicate needed police support in a certain matter, they would get it. Which meant, Misaki supposed, she should not be surprised that the new Chief of her old team had been called in.

Left standing before the Director and Chief Kichida himself, the presence of Misaki and her friends caused a direct pause in whatever the duo had been discussing. Immediately, Kobayashi stood from his large chair and bowed slightly in respectful greeting, while Kichida turned from where he had been standing in front of Kobayashi's desk and did the same. Only after mimicking the customary salutation did Misaki and Kanami draw closer, the latter taking her place next to Misaki opposite Kichida.

As Misaki's overdue replacement, Chief Kichida Toru was not an imposing or untrustworthy character, in actuality. Standing a few inches taller than Misaki, Kichida was without a doubt a strapping man of 34 with Chinese-Japanese origins, though she guessed there was a hint at European heritage judging by his dark auburn hair and gray-blue eyes. Obscuring a figure that at one point in his earlier years could only be described as lean, but had bulked slightly with age, was a pressed black suit. He stood straight-backed and proud, radiating authority and respectability. Truthfully, Misaki liked the clean-cut Kichida. In both personality and opinion, they shared very similar views. Had Kanami not been there, Misaki might have engaged more personably with him.

However, an inevitable cloud of awkwardness hung over the group, perpetuated by Kanami's grim determination _not_ to acknowledge the police chief. For not only had Kichida arrested and helped convict one of Kanami's closer friends, he had unabashedly used her to get to his target. Misaki had no doubt that had Kichida known who Kanami was at the time, he would have approached the situation more gingerly. But he hadn't, and his quick turnabout from handsome rescuer to arresting officer had permanently put any professional relationship the two may have developed at a standstill. But that did not stop the man from attempting to build one.

"Ms. Kirihara, Ms. Ishizaki, Mr. Mao," Kichida welcomed, "good evening."

"Good evening, Chief Kichida," Misaki and Mao replied simultaneously, her tone as warm as she could muster in face of her friend's discomfort.

"Good evening," Kanami imitated shortly, directing her greeting more towards Kobayashi than the man who had spoken.

Pinning Kanami with an unamused stare, Kobayashi leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "I trust this will not be a problem, Miss Ishizaki," he replied sternly.

"No problem, Director," Kanami said, and Misaki would have relaxed had she not continued. "Provided I am allowed to work unhindered and without fear that any of my associates will be unduly apprehended."

For a moment Kobayashi's face clouded, and Misaki inhaled sharply to stay any disciplinary remarks, when Kichida spoke.

"There will be no problem at all then. I have no suspects located within the National Astronomical Observatory at the moment; I checked," he replied smoothly, his voice barely hinting at the joke.

Only Mao appeared openly tickled, chuckling audibly.

Smiling softly at the situation, Misaki worked to turn their attentions from personal matters, to business.

"Why have we been called, Director?"

"As straight to the point as ever Kirihara," Kobayashi commented. "But before we delve too far into what I am about to tell you, I must ask you one question. Though you need not answer it, keep it in mind as I go over the facts concerning this case.

"If you were given the chance to make any one wish come true, a wish based on what you wanted deep down in your very soul, one you did not know entirely yourself, would you take that chance? Would you risk everything you know in order to change something you yourself do not understand? Or let it pass you by for fear of the consequences?"

For a moment Kobayashi was silent, allowing the queries to sink in, the expressions on his invitees faces growing increasingly confused at his fantastical question. Then, before any of them could respond, he continued with a far more bewildering question.

"Now, let me ask you a more serious one, and from this I do expect a reply: have you ever heard tell of the Gift from Hell's Gate: the Nebula Spheres?"

**End Chapter 2**

_Darker Than Black City AMV_

_By: KhAxsxce_


	4. 3 Turquoise Tales

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**3****章**

**紫色の散文**

_Chapter 3_

_Turquoise Tales_

Misaki's forehead creased in concentration as she perused her mental filing system. The term had struck a tone of familiarity, but it did not take her long to discover why. Though the memory was vague, she remembered hearing the stories for about a week, before interest died down. Asides to conversations nobody had thought she was listening to. She'd had to fill in some of the blanks herself, but that hadn't taken much time or effort either. Why she had bothered to do so, though, now didn't seem to matter; her eavesdropping had paid off.

"The Nebula Spheres, sir?" she said, her tone matter of fact. "It was a hoax; a story concocted by an herbalist living in the vicinity of Ikebukuro – on the outer rim of Hell's Gate. Apparently, from my understanding, the herbalist had been claiming to own glass Spheres that contained miniaturized Nebulae. They were said to come directly from Hell's Gate, _before_ it's inactivity, and rumored to have unnatural powers such as healing the injured and terminally ill, and even possessing the capabilities to bring back the dead.

"Naturally, the falsehood was soon discovered by her very dismayed customers, but when she was called out as a fraud she disappeared. Because the police could find no leads, and since there were no lasting or monumental effects on the victims' pocketbooks, the case was dropped. The police had far more pertinent things to attend to than a petty thief and conman."

Leaning back in his chair, fingers forming a steeple below his chin, Kobayashi indicated in an almost reproving voice, "You sound skeptical, Kirihara. Although I can hardly fault you for that, you must admit that your disbelief concerning this matter could have been equally applied to every other event you have been involved in, had you merely heard about it."

Eyebrow ticking slightly, Misaki stood straighter, hands fisting at her sides for feeling unduly chastised. "I'm sorry, Director," she replied, Kanami shifting in her high heels somewhat uncomfortably next to her. "It just seemed highly unlikely that anything from the Gates could bring about such…incredible...objects."

"I agree; the very notion that Hell's Gate could have made anything remotely desirable, especially something that did not require a hefty price, is entirely unforeseen. But it is true," Kobayashi stated, rising from his chair to stand before the expanse of windows creating the wall behind him. "Many a strange thing has been discovered since the appearance of the Gates. From super humans to super weapons, and the smallest of seeds with the capability to suppress it all, if temporarily. But I suppose it never occurred to anyone that man's greatest desires would be met by the thing they had come to fear above all. That is why they called the Nebulae the 'Gift of Hell's Gate'."

"_They_?" Kichida queried instantly.

Turning slightly to meet the Chief's eye, Kobayashi continued, saying, "Dr. Schroeder and his team who, up until a month ago, had been in charge of researching the very same Nebula Spheres as described in the 'herbalist's' tale. I believe it was Dr. Schroeder who coined the term. Saying something along the lines that after all the damage it has done, the Nebulae were Hell's final gift to mankind before its subsequent inactivity. A rather poetic insight from such a purely scientific mind," Kobayashi replied, resulting in Misaki's raised brows.

"Why was Schroeder involved with the Spheres?" she asked, remembering the little twig of a man with slight contempt. It had never set well with her his involvement in the near extinction of all Contractors, no matter its failure.

"Any minor dislike for the man notwithstanding, Dr. Schroeder is an extremely intelligent asset," Kobayashi remarked, rounding on his heels to fully face them, hands clasped behind his back, "He would have to be, accomplished what he did at his old age. Also, you should be made aware that while he does have his own personal opinions of our current world, when it comes to science the man will do anything to solve a mystery which no one else understands. A quality that made him the ideal candidate to study the Spheres."

Tail twitching against the back of Misaki's neck, Mao asked evenly, "_How_ did Dr. Schroeder come by them?"

"That is indeed a good question," Kobayashi remarked, dropping one hand, and rapping his knuckles once against the smooth surface of his desk, head lowered in thought. "I will try to give you as brief a summary as possible that lead to Schroeder's contact with the Spheres, as well as the reason to why you four were called in today.

"As you well know, when the United States' CIA invaded Hell's Gate and opened the way for the American occupation of it, two things occurred.

"First was the failed attempt to overtake Japan, an event avoided purely through translucent discussions between ours and the American government. Discussions that allowed for the Americans, in their mad grab for power, to only take hold of the Gate, and be somewhat satisfied with the added benefit of being permitted to traverse freely around Tokyo.

"The second was the subsequent absorption of PANDORA into US control. Still scarcely funded by the UN to continue research into Hell's Gate. I won't bore you with the details; in short, the Americans firmly believed that they could do what the original PANDORA could not: identify the nature and reason for the Gate's existence. They were wrong.

"History does repeat itself, and when they foolishly attempted to send a manned expedition into the Gate, just as in the event including Kozou Tahara only one individual returned alive. I know this may seem strange, considering that some of us here in this room have ventured into the very heart of Hell's Gate and returned virtually unscathed, but on scientific excursions it seems things have a tendency to go wrong.

"Of an eight-man and woman team, only a female scientist – a biologist, actually – survived. Miss Shima Naoko who returned with what, at the time, had been cloudy turquoise-hued _bindama_. Replicas, naturally, of the same kind of deep-sea fishing floats as used around 1910. But instead of being inscribed with the manufacturer's insignia, they were each labeled with a specific character: Time, Immortality, Injury, Healing, Life, Death, Memory, and Strength.

"At first nothing could be determined of them, other than they were unbreakable, and the exploration into the Gate, like all the rest, was deemed a failure. Shima, due to mental instability, was dismissed from duty, relegated to a cheap knock-off of her scientific profession – an herbalist – and the Spheres were locked away. Afterwards normal duties continued, and everything was quiet.

"Until Shima, obsessed with the Spheres she felt 7 of her colleagues had died for, began speaking about them to anyone who would listen, going so far as to sell _bindama_ to customers who were lead to believe they were the same as had been removed from the Gate. This is where your report comes into play, Kirihara, for in Shima's telling of the Spheres, she had also mentioned the characters written on the bottom of them, allowing her clientele to believe that the _bindama_ they had purchased would grant them such 'impossibilities'.

"While this detail may appear worthless in the grand scheme of things, I must tell you that when Shima was dismissed, she was given an ME wipe, which should have prevented her from doing such a thing, had the operator not botched it. This allowed her to retain certain memories, and the Americans, after hearing word of Shima's activities, were quite keen on regaining her. For if she had remembered such particulars as the characters written on the bottoms of the _bindama_, chances were high that she might know _other_ secrets.

"However, the Americans were not the only ones interested in the 'herbalist' you spoke of. Madame Oreille, as you know, has a fine eye for conspiracy, information gathering, and fantastical stories that have no choice but to be true. She got to Shima first, and the Americans allowed her to keep custody of the scientist. An agreed upon arrangement as, at the time, the third Gate had appeared within the United States, and the forces located at Hell's Gate had been stretched too thin for them to truly care about what happened to Shima, so long as she kept her mouth shut. Not to mention Oreille more than likely already knows far more compromising secrets than Shima could ever dream of, giving her the proper ammunition to get what she wanted.

"It worked for only a short time. Up until Shima attempted to steal the eight glass fishing floats. A unique effort, as Shima, known as a regular human, had used a common Contractor's ability to teleport into the storage room where the Spheres were kept. In the few months since delving into the Gate and returning, Shima had gone from human to Contractor.

"Needless to say, the Americans were not happy when their surveillance tapes showed Shima struggling to teleport away with the Spheres. No more than an _attempt_ because, when she activated her ability to escape, her Lancernopt synchrotron radiation apparently resonated with the Spheres, and restricted her from leaving with them. Forcing her to drop them to get away. Immediately they wanted Shima back from Oreille, though they were undecided as to what to do with her. Some wanted her memory to be _fully_ wiped, properly this time. Others called for her complete elimination.

"Ultimately, however, it was Oreille who once again got her way. Arguing that, since Shima was so desperate to have the Spheres, that she should get them. After all, it was through Shima's attempt to steal the Spheres that their true appearance was revealed. They had cleared, and within them was exposed miniature Nebulae of varying colors. As a result, Oreille was also given the argument that clearly only a Contractor could activate them to any degree, and since Shima so evidently was a Contractor now, it would be best to give her the Spheres to study under extreme supervision. A logical conclusion, decided upon the factor that it would be a Contractor they knew and could control that would analyze them, rather than one of Shima's unpredictable counterparts.

"Again, the Americans agreed, and it was thus the true nature of the Spheres was determined. And, as it would turn out, she had unintentionally been right all along. Just like she had guessed in her discussions with customers back when it looked as if she was merely endeavoring to con them for their money, the characters written on the bottoms of the Spheres had indicated the power they contained. A fact that frightened her enough that the Spheres were then given to Schroeder for examination, when she refused to go near them from that point forward. A highly illogical response for a Contractor, though judging from her previous behavior, it was clear Shima was not a typical Contractor to begin with."

By the time Kobayashi had finished his yarn, he had returned to his seat, leaning against his elbows as he studied the reactions of the four before him.

Kichida appeared contemplative, working his mind around the tale in a way that was similar to Misaki. Sifting through the narrative for the facts that mattered most. On Misaki's shoulder, Mao had crouched to stare intently at nothing, and Kanami still shifted from one foot to the other.

"While that was certainly interesting, Director," Kanami said, crossing her arms over her ribs, "I don't see why you called us together. What is the point of having the Chief of Section 4, a Contractor in a squirrel's body, an ex-cop, and an astrophysicist in the same room? It's like you're just trying a setup for a joke."

"Because one month ago Dr. Schroeder discovered something extraordinary about the Spheres, and Miss Shima reacted badly to the news," Kobayashi replied, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out an opaque water bottle. "She took the Spheres, successfully this time, after which she tried no doubt to disappear into nothingness. Somehow, however, she was intercepted. Now, the Spheres have been scattered all over the place, and the Americans want them back or, with or without resources, they will break the tenuous peace between us and them. Something that will not reflect well at all on the New Syndicate, for it will inevitably become known that we are responsible for the breakdown, being the ones who lobbied to research the Spheres in the first place. And when that happens, we will be discredited, and everything we have gained for Contractor rights will disappear along with our already unstable reputation."

"So you want us to go after the Spheres?" Misaki asked.

"Yes and no, Kirihara. What I would like for you to do _is_ gather the Spheres, yes. No, in that I want you to also intercept the man who is currently collecting them for some unknown reason, and bring him to us so we can take what he has and make amends to the Americans."

"What?" Kichida asked, trading glances with Misaki.

Kobayashi sighed, drank heavily from the bottle, and appeared suddenly very tired. "After the Spheres were stolen from us by Shima, then scattered by an array of secret operatives trying to get their hands on them, one Contractor stood out from the rest. A Contractor we were not certain the identity of until the Black Sphere inscribed with the symbol for Death was stolen from the Chinese three weeks ago."

Suddenly, Kanami gasped. "You can't be serious, _that's_ what that was about?"

"What do you mean? What's going on?" Misaki asked, her attention focused on her friend.

"Three weeks ago there was a disturbance in China, which I can only assume is the same one the Director is talking about, and they asked me to monitor the stars that were active at the time. I had no idea what it was for, or what it could possibly mean, but what was most surprising was that only two stars were active at that particular moment," Kanami replied breathlessly, eyes wide, hands dropping to grip the red fabric of her dress.

"What stars were they?" Misaki asked incredulously.

Glancing away from Misaki to the Director, Kanami answered only at his nod.

"The first, Messier code HK436, was a Chinese Contractor by the name of Xiě Hóngsè, of whom the Chinese claimed could not have been anywhere in the area when I reported it to them. Something I just disregarded because, hell, I had no idea what it was I was looking into at the time, or why they had Kobayashi ask me to look when they had their own observatory. The other one was, well," Kanami paused, giving Misaki a significant look.

"BK201, the second star was BK201."

**End Chapter 3**

_Darker Than Black AMV Rise_

_-by: Leon Horváth_


	5. 4 Gray Ascension

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**4****章**

**灰色の昇天**

_Chapter 4_

_Gray Ascension_

The stairs creaked with every step he took, like old bones on the verge of fracture. A cold breeze blew through holes in walls that had exploded outward. Light and feathery, chilling every breath and slicing through his clothing to frost feverish skin. Blackness surrounded him, following him up the building, char marks from a past fire that had licked up the walls to destroy most of the pinstriped wallpaper. Furniture had crumbled on legs turned to ash. Windows were gaping maws lined with glass teeth. What had at one point been stacks of luggage were now piles of so much charcoal.

Every breath pulled tickling particles of ash down his throat, causing his eyes to water. A distraction he welcomed rather than abhorred. Occupying his mind with the need to breathe, rather than the instinctual urge to _run_. Sweat drew tracks through the dust that lightly coated his face and throat, navy blue eyes blinking away the salty beads. He felt as though he were burning from the inside out, and when he reached the next landing, he turned to grip the railing with both hands. Gasping as though he had run for miles.

Squeezing his eyes shut, then opening them in attempt to clear his vision, he waited for the episode to pass. Hunched over and peering down the chasm he had ascended from step by step. But the longer he stood still the more _it_ pulsed, drawing the gloom of the building around him in an asphyxiating shroud.

Reaching into the belt pouch on his hip, he withdrew the object he shouldn't have had. A small, glass sphere no bigger than a golf ball, and just as light. Even now it seemed as though all he had to do was apply just a little pressure and it would shatter between his fingers, but he knew better than to try. Already he had failed to destroy it back when it had first begun to wear him down, before he knew what it was. However it wasn't the unbreakable glass, or the character of Death written upon the base of it, that caused Hei to run a gloved hand through sweat-dampened hair.

Within the glass orb swirled a compact black cloud. Dense and bleak, sucking away any and all light that attempted to touch it. It seemed to grow outward, waves of it beating in an attempt to break free of its glass cage. An object that had tormented him from the moment he had plucked it from the hand of what he had thought was an analyst. All while a madman clad in silver laughed maniacally in the background.

The instant his hand closed over the sphere, he knew he should have dropped it. Should have left it where it was and allowed events to unfold as they would, excluding him. Instead, as though possessed, he had slipped it into his pocket and ran. Not knowing what he had, and not caring as he escaped the carnage that threatened to catch _her_ attention.

Bringing the Sphere to eye level, watching the black shadow inside quiver in grotesque amusement, Hei shook his head. If he had only dropped it, or not noticed it at all, he had no doubt he would not be in his current situation. Running around trying to find the rest of them. All in the hopes of either ridding himself of his current problem, or giving someone the chance to end it _for_ him.

When the nausea grew stronger and threatened to send him sprawling to the floor, the Black Reaper shifted the malicious Sphere in his palm and closed his fingers over it, squeezing hard enough that, had it been normal glass, it would have broken as easily as a light bulb. In retaliation, a similar pressure began to grow around _him_, as if gravity had joined forces with the miniature black cloud. He squinted with alarm, seeing nothing, and slowly was driven to his knees. Almost as though a pair of hands had taken him by the shoulders and _pushed_. His lungs constricted until he couldn't breathe, until he felt as though he would slip from consciousness.

Opening his hand to view the sphere, only then did the Reaper notice the blue halo outlining his body. Somehow, his heartbeat accelerated further, noticing also that tiny specks of light had started to sparkle within the cloud, as though a series of stars were twinkling inside it. Something he had seen only once, back in China, when the item had been _activated_. But, that was the least of his worries.

Only one thing could cause such a phenomenon, where only one of the two reactions to his Lancernopt synchrotron radiation was visible. When all that occurred was the azure glow around his body, and not the red he would see when his eyes too obtained a pinprick of crimson light.

His suspicions were confirmed when, somewhere behind him, a drop of water pinged, echoing off the walls. Immediately he stiffened, swallowing dryly, vision clearing as his adrenaline spiked. Somehow he hoped he had imagined it, hoped that it was just a coincidence, that it was the sphere causing his Contract to awaken unexpectedly. A distinctly horrendous hope, but still better than the alternative.

Then, the drop of water rang out once more, and he knew it hadn't been in his head. A conclusion solidified when a blue figure materialized next to him. Kneeling beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other reaching down to grip the wrist of the hand that held the _Black Nebula_.

At first she was just a girl-shaped specter, but gradually she solidified, becoming the haunt that had plagued him the past fourteen months. Wearing only a skin-tight black bodysuit, hair glowing luminescent blue, Yin's lookalike bore a mocking smile, gazing pityingly into Hei's face.

"You shouldn't play with that, Hei, it's dangerous," she said in Yin's voice, hand constricting his wrist.

Hei said nothing, staring into her pale face with wide eyes bruised by exhaustion

Slowly the girl's smile broadened, eyelids drooping until she looked at him through silver lashes. Simultaneously a distant ring pierced his ears, gradually growing stronger the more she stared at him. A ringing he had heard only twice.

Once when anger and betrayal had flooded him from head to foot, his hand clenching the forehead of the girl who had caused it. His hold gentle, threatening to turn crushing at any moment. The second when a third option had been presented between two choices, and he'd taken it. Not knowing what the results would be.

This time, however, there was no control on his part of what should have been his to control. A power only he was supposed to be master over, though he had not yet tried to be. A capability to _change_, to alter a quality that otherwise would be unalterable. As the blue that surrounded him began to bleed outward to outline the building's interior, Hei was distinctly aware he was only a tool. Nothing more than a conduit, with which the girl that bore Yin's features could possess an ability she otherwise would not have. Just as his wire was a conduit for the electricity _he_ used.

When the ringing continued a moment longer, and he felt that at any moment his position in Tokyo would be revealed, it began to dull. The blue light that had illumined the building subsided, until only he possessed the radiance. Then, not even he shone the unnatural hue, and everything was again quiet.

The sphere had lost the sparkling quality, and seemed to sleep quietly in his palm. He was, surprisingly, able to breathe again almost normally. The fever that had seized him moments before having dropped into the background. Still there, but just as dormant as the Nebula he held.

Next to him, the girl gave a short laugh that chimed just as a drop of water again resounded throughout the building. He winced, dipping his gaze to his hands as she released his wrist.

"There, all better now," she whispered, lifting a hand to cup his face, and turn his face toward her, "I have to leave again, Hei, but don't worry, I won't be gone for long. I'll never leave you alone so long I can't find you, not again."

Wanting nothing more than to run as she leaned toward him, he was however frozen in place as she placed a single kiss upon his forehead. Then she was gone, disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared, and leaving nothing behind her but one last, resonating sound of dripping water.

For a moment Hei remained kneeling on the scorched landing, hand tightening over the sphere, until he gave one sharp exhale and tucked it away again in the belt pouch. Standing, feeling the remnants of his fever ebb further into the back of his mind, he then turned toward the stairs and began once again to climb upwards. Even though _she_ had been the one to banish the sickness, he felt somehow worse for it. Remembering the feel of her lips against his forehead caused his skin to crawl and his hands to shake.

Clutching the wrist she had gripped against his abdomen in an effort to stop the trembling, and banish the bruise that was beginning to form, he shook his head. He wasn't sure which was worse; the fact _Izanami_ had taken it upon herself to shadow him from place to place, destroying the Contractors who dared to _twitch_ around him. Or that she did it smiling with Yin's face, and believed herself right for doing it.

Why she had decided to keep _him_ alive, to save him for last, he had no idea. His only concern now was to prevent her from finding out the reason he held onto the Black Nebula, and why he strived to find the rest of them. To keep her from knowing why he scaled the building he was within, from finding out his undertaking.

If she did, her retaliation would be quickly served. He would consider himself lucky if all she did was to cease allowing him to live. But knowing her now, the result would be the annihilation of those he cared about in this city. Human and Contractor alike. Something far worse than dying himself, since there weren't many left alive he considered even remotely as a friend. The very _idea_ that he had called one of them to this place was extremely risky. But _someone_ had to _know_.

Looking up at the stairs he had yet to climb, Hei shook his head, working his way up. Hoping he would make his meeting before _Izanami's_ return.

**End Chapter 4**

_My Name – Darker Than Black_

_-by: 7Silvertigo_


	6. 5 Charcoal Reluctance

UPDATED: 3/22/15

**5****章**

**木炭抵抗**

_Chapter 5_

_Charcoal Reluctance_

Chief Kichida Toru frowned, "BK201?"

"The Black Reaper," Kanami said, pulling her gaze from her friend to raise an eyebrow at the police chief, "you _do_ know who that is, right?"

"I am aware, Ms. Ishizaki. I'm merely curious as to why he would be involved in _this_ scenario. It's not something I would have thought the Reaper involved with," Kichida replied smoothly.

"It's hard to say at all what the owner of that star is up to these days," Kobayashi said, "he's been mostly inactive these past two years, ever since the Hell's Gate Incident. I would assume he'd died, but his star has yet to fall.

"And now he has the…Black Nebula?" Kichida said, eyes narrowing slightly.

"The Nebula Sphere marked with the character of Death, yes," Kobayashi nodded, settling back in his chair.

"The eight _bindama_ are all labeled with specific characters, correct?" Mao commented thoughtfully, "If we are to be collecting them to prevent the Americans from retaliating, will we be provided accurate materials to recognize them by?"

"Indeed," the Director smiled grimly. Leaning toward the drawer opposite the one he had stored his bottle, he withdrew from it four manila folders. Keeping one for himself, he spread the remaining three on his desk and motioned for them to each take one. Misaki evidently to share hers with the squirrel perched on her shoulder. "Within these folders are photos and records that detail the physical and supernatural attributes of the eight Nebula Spheres, all of which can be separated into four related pairs.

"The Blue and Red Nebulae, for example, are those whose faculties extend to the physical condition, affecting only the state of the human body. The Blue Nebula of Healing is able to mend any and all physical ailments from abrasions to sickness, so long as the individual is not on the brink of death. Alternately, the Red Nebula of Injury is capable of the exact opposite, causing damage to the body, but not enough for someone to die.

"Similarly, Green Memory and Orange Ignorance are meant for more mental settings. The Green Nebula allows one to remember memories they have long forgotten, but also memories they have not yet had. A kind of precognition that is not always correct, depending entirely on the choices made within the minute, day, hour, year, et cetera. Like the Red Nebula is to the Blue, the Orange is Green's antithesis. Dulling thoughts and feelings until they become nonexistent, suppressing personality, motor skills, and even the most basic of urges such as eating and sleeping.

"The Black Nebula of Death and Silver Nebula of Life are rather self-explanatory, however one who has died by the Black Nebula cannot be brought to life by the Silver. And vice versa, in that one who was brought to life by the Nebula of Life cannot die by the Nebula of Death. Also, unlike their counterparts, the Black and Silver Nebulae must be in close proximity for either to work. A feature not necessary among the other six.

"Lastly is the pair of Time and Immortality. Time is a Golden Nebula, and while an individual cannot change events in the past, present or future, with help from the Gold they are able to peek within each of these points and gain an advantage over events otherwise unobtainable. Immortality is a bit more beneficial, and also easy to understand. Almost like a portable Fountain of Youth, the sphere's only stipulation is that those who want immortality must carry the sphere with them, or something imbued with its power.

"Now, as far as the locations of each sphere, also detailed in these documents, over the past few weeks we have been able to narrow down where they may be. However, since these were put together, many positions already have, or may have, since changed save for a few. Those we know for a fact are still in the same place are the Blue Nebula and Green Nebula, which we have hidden within our facility until we can gather the rest. We also know the Americans have already obtained the Orange.

"The Red, though, has since been stolen from its place in Africa by persons unknown. The Silver Nebula went missing at the time Shima attempted to thieve them, probably by BK201 judging from the efficiency of its stealing, who we know also has the Black Nebula. As for the Gold and Purple, we have yet to locate any trace of them. It is believed that they may be somewhere hidden near Hell's Gate, but no one knows where or why they haven't been found yet. Or how they would have gotten there in the first place.

"Which is why I gathered the four of you to work together in this undertaking. As Chief of Section 4 Foreign Affairs, Kichida, your position and team are ideal for the task of keeping the peace with the Americans, as well as with dealing with Contractors sent from rival agencies bent on retrieving the Nebulae for their own purposes.

"Miss Ishizaki, you will help in this endeavor. Being that monitoring Contractor activity is a norm for you, I expect it should produce no undue challenges. I _do_ require you to be able to work with Chief Kichida and his team. You will inform them of growing proximity of hostiles and any details you can glean from our databases pertaining to their identities, as well as whether or not they may have claimed a Nebula. A task with which will put the Shion Doll Network to good use.

"Kirihara and Mao, you are to assist Chief Kichida not only in finding and acquiring the Spheres, but to also be a key factor in the capture of BK201. In recent years you have had plenty of contact with the Reaper, especially you Mao, and I do not doubt that your aid in obtaining him and the Nebula he owns will be instrumental."

"How would you suggest we do so, sir?" Misaki asked directly, tone underlined with steel, "If his last known position was China, do we know for sure that he will come within our range enough to intercept? And if he does, what are we supposed to do with him? He has the Black Nebula, there is no telling what he is capable of, considering we are still unclear to what happened in China that caused _such_ a disturbance, they contacted _you_ to have Kanami observe the stars instead of doing it themselves."

"It was a massacre, Kirihara," the Director answered solemnly, "Thirty-three men, women, and children died the instant BK201 obtained the Black Nebula. As for how I know he will come within your range, if he intends on collecting the rest of the Spheres he will have no choice than to come to Tokyo, for most of them are located here.

"As for what you are to do with him once found, that is up to your discretion. I once told you I would give you what information I could on the Black Reaper as it came to me, so you could possibly put answers to unasked questions. But that does not mean the ensuing encounter will end on good terms. In this case, it may not."

"Why not ask Madame Oreille to find him? Her reach is extensive, it should be easy for her," Misaki replied quickly, ignoring the incredulous gaze directed at her by Kanami.

"The Americans have forbidden her involvement, as ludicrous as that sounds. Being the one to convince them it would be alright for us to hold onto Shima and the Spheres, she has been labeled as something akin to a traitor. Although, I believe the reasons for their suspicion of her stems from not wanting her to keep the Spheres for herself, should she get her hands on them, but that is mere conjecture. If Oreille helps in any way, shape, or form, our treaty with them is forfeit and they will find the Spheres themselves. They have their own Gate now, so a failure to do so wouldn't be much of a loss to them," Kobayashi explained. "Although that doesn't mean she isn't still watching for the arrival of the Reaper. She will try to help in whatever small ways she can."

"I am curious," Mao said, breaking the direction of the conversation with ease. "What did Schroeder find that caused Shima to steal the Spheres and for all of this to occur in the first place?"

Eyes flickering about the faces of the four, Kobayashi's chest rose as he took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. A contemplative expression clouded his features, and for a moment he closed his eyes, as though composing himself for the truth he was about to reveal.

"Earlier I asked you a question, about what you would do if you were given the chance to make one wish from your very soul. A wish you would not know the content of until you made it, and whether you could accept the consequences of it if you were allowed to make it a reality. _That_ is what the Americans want," Kobayashi replied sternly, "We have eight unbreakable glass Spheres that house within them eight specifically colored Nebulae, gifted with extraordinary capabilities accessible only by a Contractor. However, it appears that if these Spheres are placed in a specific order, they can _communicate_ to _humans_ in a series of images. Contractors cannot hear it or see it, but can perceive the meaning of whatever is implied. What Schroeder discovered, and what so frightened Shima, was the wish the Spheres would grant. If certain conditions were met."

At the disbelief apparent to varying degrees on their faces, Kobayashi sighed, rubbing a hand roughly over an exhausted face. "I understand your skepticism. It is truly something one would expect out of a sci-fi fantasy novel, and not reality. But if you consider that the Spheres are possibly the last thing created by Hell's Gate, it becomes only slightly less improbable. Slightly. The fact of the matter is, though, there is a chance it is true, and if it is there's no mystery as to why _everyone_ wants the Spheres who have heard of this discovery."

After his declaration, the silence stretched, each unsure as to what to do with the information.

Then Misaki spoke, expression grim and entirely dutiful. "We shouldn't waste any more time. If what you say is true, this idle chatter isn't going to help matters. If we have more questions, we'll call."

"Very well, Kirihara," the Director nodded, rising from his chair to give a slight bow in farewell. "You know where to find me."

**End Chapter 5**

_Darker Than Black Manhunt AMV_

_By: myattackminds_


	7. 6 Red Distress

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**6****章**

**赤苦痛**

_Chapter 6_

_Red Distress_

By the time the foursome had exited the New Syndicate, the afternoon sunlight had faded to a cold dusky evening. The sky giving one last burst of color as Kichida separated from Misaki, Mao, and Kanami with a promise that he would be in touch with them soon. After watching the Chief get into his police cruiser, the trio continued on their way. Silent as they headed toward Kanami's boxy little car, each contemplating completely different subjects

Then, as soon as they reached the vehicle Kanami rounded sharply on her friend, succeeding immediately in pulling Misaki out of her reverie. "So what was that all about?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" Misaki asked, stepping around the clearly irritable female.

"'What do I mean'? Why on earth were you trying to get out of the investigation?" Kanami said, circling the car with brusque steps when Misaki pulled the door open to get in.

"If you'll excuse me," Mao said quickly, leaping from Misaki's shoulder to the tarmac, "I think I will leave you two…to whatever may ensue."

Wishing she too were able to disappear with such abruptness, Misaki heaved a resigned sigh, and spun around to the sound of Kanami starting the engine.

"I wasn't trying to get out of it," she said, a little too quietly.

"Seriously? Then what was with the whole, 'why not have Oreille find him' crap? You know just as well as I do that the _only_ reason you haven't had a steady relationship these past _four years_ is because you're perpetually stuck on some mystery man who you don't even _know_!" Kanami exclaimed in a rush of breath, "And now you finally have a chance to get over it, and you try to _back out_? Really, do you _like_ being alone? Because it's starting to look that way!"

"I was just covering my bases, Kanami. You're reading way too much into this," Misaki shook her head, avoiding Kanami's dirty look by staring out the window.

"Wow, you don't even deny it," Kanami said, giving a short, humorless laugh.

Misaki sighed heavily, "Because it's a ridiculous accusation."

"Because it's the truth!" she said, throwing the car into gear and tearing out of the parking lot.

"Why are you so angry?" Misaki asked, scowling.

"My _feet_ _hurt_!"

"Kanami, slow down," Misaki said when the engine to the small vehicle revved, anger devolving into concern, and then fear when they barely missed a J-walker as Kanami weaved through traffic manically.

Swerving sharply, almost losing control going around the corner, Kanami ignored her friend and continued heading along random streets.

"Kanami, slow down!" Misaki repeated more loudly, reaching over to grasp Kanami's upper arm. "Where are you going?"

Instead of answering, Kanami screeched onto a back road, giving Misaki only a hint of relief at the lack of traffic, until she noticed where they were headed. Her grip instantly tightening on Kanami's arm.

"Kanami, STOP!" Misaki shouted, and was answered by the squealing of tires.

Grunting as the seatbelt caught, barely swallowing a scream as the car came to a jolting halt, she recovered quickly and immediately unbuckled and got out of the car.

"Are you insane? What is your problem?" Misaki snarled, "Why are we _here_?"

"You don't remember this place? Really?" Kanami said, waving her hand around the darkening street, at the rows of apartment buildings. Most of them long since abandoned after the Hell's Gate Incident. "Should I refresh your memory?"

Eyes narrowing, Misaki turned slightly to look at the entrance to the apartment they'd stopped in front of, then at the remains of what had been a growing green bush the last time she'd been here. She could still see the image of the two children hiding there, and her jaw clenched, hands fisting at her sides.

"_What are you doing in Section 3_?"

The question still echoed in her mind, a knife of guilt sliding between her ribs. She didn't know which had hurt worse, his elbow knocking into the back of her skull in attempt to jolt her into unconsciousness, or knowing the feeling of betrayal she had caused in another human being. Her want to make him _understand_, and not having the chance.

"You told me all about it. Even though I was still in Hawaii at the time, when all was said and done you put in the effort to give me a long-distance call. You have any idea what it was like listening to you cry over the phone and not being there to help you through it? You never cry," Kanami ground out, slapping her hand on the roof of the car. "You want to know why I'm angry, Misaki? It's because I'm conflicted here."

Licking dry lips, Misaki looked Kanami's direction, "Conflicted?"

"Yeah," she said, eyebrows pinching her forehead, "I don't want you to get hurt, Misaki. Not only physically, but mentally too. I don't think _you_ even realize how serious this situation is. It's life-changing…scratch that, it's _world-changing_. We fail, and Japan falls to pieces. Everything you worked for would be gone in an instant. And you're the best person to prevent that from happening. But _I don't want you to be involved_ because you've done enough already. First the Tokyo Explosion, then whatever part you played in the Hell's Gate Incident, now this. You need to move on with your life, away from Hell's Gate, away from the New Syndicate and Tokyo, maybe even away from Japan itself.

"But I know that in order to do so you've got to get your questions answered, and you've got to realize the Reaper _isn't_ your ally. Unusual or not, he is a _Contractor_, and he _will_ kill you if he has to. He proved that two years ago. God, Misaki, you almost _died_; and all that saved you was giving a little girl _meat buns_. It kills _me_ that the only way for you to truly understand that is for you to face him head on and use your freaky-deaky detective skills to break him down, and discover his true nature. Once you do, your obsession will end, and you can finally meet someone who won't try to electrocute you into a crisp because it was somehow _logical_."

"Kanami," Misaki began, but was cut off when the other woman raised her hand.

"Don't, Misaki. I just wanted to try and make you remember what he is, what he could do, and that even though _I_ want you to, you can't try and wiggle your way out of this one. This has to be the end to your drama, and I don't have to like the circumstances. I'll do what I can to make it go by as quickly and painlessly as possible, but I can't promise it won't end badly. Just call me or tell me when something's up so I can help this time, okay?" Kanami finished, looking at Misaki with eyes that glistened in the light from flickering streetlamps.

Softening a little, Misaki nodded, forehead creased in a mixture of deep thought and a strong, unidentifiable emotion. Then, giving the apartment complex one last look, got back into the car. This time when Kanami pulled out, it was with well-practiced precision, and when she continued down the street she obeyed every traffic law from using her indicator to going the speed limit.

Gradually Misaki relaxed into the silence as they drove towards her apartment, the crinkle of shopping bags in the back seat lulling her into a sense of calm. A calm that, no doubt, would soon be the kind she craved amidst the stress, anxiety, and thrill of the chase.

Just as she was about to start a more relaxed conversation, a shimmer of blue out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. They had stopped at an intersection, and within the confines of a black alley, the blue girl had returned. She seemed to be staring at her, through her, all around her; encompassing everything that Misaki was and threatening to crush it between her fingertips. Misaki's pulse pounded in her ears, and she straightened in her seat, eyes wide open. However, just as it had done the last time, the instant she blinked the figure disappeared, then they were moving again as the light flashed green.

Absorbed by thoughts frozen with apprehension, and deaf to Kanami's clear concern, only after a full minute had passed did she settle back in her seat. Muttering a positive affirmation of her state of mind, Misaki smiled weakly Kanami's way. The image of the blue girl burned into her brain.

And not once did she wonder where her furred companion had gone.

**((**))*6*((**))**

Mao's nose wrinkled at the stench, unable to suppress the sneeze that escaped him while clouds of ash puffed into his face with every leap he made towards the roof of what remained of the hotel. Five months ago an explosion had wracked the building. A byproduct of a deal gone wrong, the nature of which was not entirely known, but resulted in the complete abandonment of the structure. It was scheduled for demolition in six weeks.

Only slightly curious as to why he would want to meet _here_, of all places, the body-seizing Contractor made one final leap and landed on the top step, inches from the open door that lead to the roof. Perhaps the only unburnt portion of the building, the roof was covered in a thin layer of gravel that crunched and rolled underfoot, making it hard to approach noiselessly the black-clad figure standing at its edge. The only thing separating him from a steep drop being a knee-high brick wall that enclosed the entire top of the building.

"You're late, Mao," the figure said in a raspy monotone, turning slightly to view his furred visitor.

"Fashionably," Mao returned, scuttling to the edge of the wall, then jumping to the top of it. "How are you doing these days, Hei?"

The Black Reaper said nothing, merely letting Mao give him an once-over to determine his condition.

"You certainly look terrible," Mao remarked, taking in the somewhat slouching man with unveiled curiosity.

While he had maintained the length of his hair and was keeping himself clean-shaven, the black-haired, navy blue-eyed Contractor still looked worse for wear. His hair was a mess, his eyes were shadowed with dark bruises, and though he was still fit, he was somewhat leaner than he should have been. Gaunter than was normal for someone who could eat ten times his weight in ramen on a regular basis. Clad still in black, his clothes were in far better condition than their wearer. Each item was clean and mended where it required mending, his tools of the trade gleamed, and though his shoes were scuffed they still allowed him to move virtually unheard.

"What took you so long?" Hei asked, devoid of any kind of emotion, though something in his eyes nearly made Mao's fur stand on end.

"Kobayashi Goro – you remember him, yes? – called Kirihara and I, among a few of our colleagues, into a rather interesting meeting and you'll never guess what we talked about."

Hei blinked, slowly.

Mao sighed heavily, "Good to know some things never change. The Nebula Spheres, Hei, we talked about the Nebula Spheres."

"Why?" Hei asked, and Mao didn't miss the way his fingers twitched toward the pouch on his hip.

"Because evidently the Americans want them back, and it's the New Syndicate's fault they were lost in the first place…and apparently you have some of them," Mao added significantly.

"_One_ of them," Hei corrected.

"That's not what _I_ heard," Mao said, shaking his head, "Kobayashi believes you have _two_, both the Black Nebula _and_ the Silver. Although that's just an oversight, a misunderstanding, since you weren't even here when Shima lost them all. This is the first time you've been back to Tokyo since the Hell's Gate Incident, isn't it? I have to admit, too, that I'm rather surprised you bothered to contact _me_. We're not exactly on the same side anymore, Hei. I work with Kirihara now, as you know, and she's been tasked to capture you, if that's of any surprise or interest."

"You talk too much," Hei glowered.

"_You're_ the one that contacted _me_, through my uplink, no less. So if you're not interested in that little tidbit, what is it you _need_ to know? Though I can't say I'm not pleased to see you alive, you must have a reason for getting in touch," Mao replied nonplussed.

"What did Kobayashi tell you about the Spheres?" Hei said, staring at the squirrel.

"There are eight of them, they are _magical_, everyone wants them, and that they'll grant a little genie wish if the circumstances are right," Mao said, and not without his fair share of sarcasm.

"What she told me is true, then," the Reaper muttered.

"Not necessarily, it could all just be a ploy to catch us unawares of the real reasons the Spheres are important," Mao suggested, "Who's '_she'_?"

"Who else is involved now?" Hei said, ignoring the question.

"Kirihara and myself, as I already mentioned, as well as Kirihara's friend, Ishizaki – the reinstated head of Astronomics – and the new police chief of Section 4 Foreign Affairs, Kichida, and his team whom you have already met, to varying degrees," Mao replied, watching the man closely.

"Kichida?" Hei said, allowing a small portion of surprise to flit across his features, "Kichida _Toru_?"

Quirking his head to the side, Mao replied with a slow, "Yes, that's correct. Why? Is the name familiar?"

Swallowing visibly, the Black Reaper seemed to struggle with whether to reply or not for a moment. Then something caught his attention, and he whirled around. His head tipped, as though hearing something even Mao could not, then jerked partially until he could see Mao out of the corner of his eye.

"Leave," he ordered shortly, "hurry."

"What? _Why_?" Mao asked, ears pinning to his skull as a sense of wrongness sparked in the air around him.

"No time, Mao, just go!" Hei said earnestly, and without a second hesitation Mao leapt from the roof, spreading his legs wide to catch the air and float toward the ground. As he did, a glimmer of blue appeared next to Hei, but Mao didn't have a chance to identify what it was.

He was dropping too fast, and if the sense still clinging to the air was any sign, he probably didn't want to know what was going on. A feeling that was only confirmed with the knowledge that Hei was never cautious without a reason. As well as the fact that for the period Mao had known him, the Black Reaper had never sounded as terrified as he had in ushering Mao away from the building. Whatever the blue gleam had been, it was bad news, and Mao knew he would be lucky if he never found out what it was, or what it meant.

It was just truly unfortunate that his luck had run out long ago, and he had no doubt that he would be forced to face the thing he was currently running from. It was only a matter of time before the mystery was revealed, and he seriously hoped it didn't kill him in the process.

**End Chapter 6**

_{Welcome to the Show}_

_By: JazzsVids_


	8. 7 Crimson Anticipation

UPDATED: 3/22/15

**7****章**

**クリムゾン予想**

_Chapter 7_

_Crimson Anticipation_

Misaki lay in bed on her back, head turned to the side to view her alarm clock which very precisely read 3:00 AM. Her hair was a tangled mess and her skin sticky with sweat. She had found it difficult to even fall asleep once Kanami had dropped her off at home. Her friend remaining long enough to help carry the results of their shopping spree to where they were still piled in the dining room. Drained, Misaki had then showered for the second time that day before going to bed. It was around midnight when she finally managed to slip into a light, restless sleep. Enduring only a few hours' worth dreaming twisted versions of past memories.

The first had been simple enough. The night before the Tokyo Explosion, when she'd been dining with the young man whom she'd already begun to suspect as being her target all along. Regardless of her suspicions, however, the evening had been enjoyable, images of what had transpired after the meal interrupting the scene every so often. The disruptions within the dream had stopped, however, when the memory began to alter in tiny ways. First his white shirt turned black, and evening became mid-afternoon outside the window. The blackness of his pupils spread to encompass the whites of his eyes, and his mouth became a red line. Then his face melted away entirely, forming itself into a more gruesome version of the Black Reaper's mask.

Blood had begun to drip down his forehead when his chopsticks turned into a dual-bladed knife, and he made to thrust it under her chin.

She was in junior high, trying her best not to laugh with her friends Kanami and Alice Wang.

Alice had placed three thumbtacks on the chair of one of their less-amiable classmates. A bully who had thoroughly humiliated Misaki when he'd cut off half of one of her braids the day before. Forcing her for the first and last time in her life to cut her hair short. It was one of the few moments Misaki had ever felt vulnerable, waiting for her hair – her one vanity – to grow back.

Her friends had known it, too, and while it had been mostly Alice's idea to exact revenge, no matter how juvenile, Kanami had been in on it all the same. Misaki herself had had no idea about their plot, her attention brought to it only when their classmate had been about to sit at his desk. Kanami had jabbed her arm then to get her attention, pointing out his impending doom with a pleased smirk.

Instinctually, she had attempted to warn him, but gravity had already taken its merciless hold, and there was nothing Misaki could do when he began howling. Alice burst into giggles almost simultaneously, nudging Misaki to unsuccessfully get her to join in her mirth. Kanami had merely smiled evilly, eyes shining with dark amusement.

At first she was appalled, and her sense of justice, of right and wrong, was challenged. She knew it was immoral, she knew violence was not the answer when there were rules and laws available to curb such behavior. But at the same time she knew he should pay for what he'd done. After all, she had not been the only victim, and though she felt somewhat guilty at doing so, Misaki soon joined with the rest of her classmates. Willingly catching herself up in the collective mindset to destroy his, to extend his pain and embarrassment for as long as possible.

As if in recompense for Misaki's following the crowd, Alice abruptly stopped laughing and stood up from her chair. It was then the dream separated further from what had really happened when Alice then turned to Misaki. Suddenly her school uniform became a pristine white dress, and Alice had grown from a young teenaged girl into a young woman.

"You were supposed to be my friend," Alice said, dark red beginning to stain the dress around her stomach, "now look what you did. I defended you, and look what you did!"

The red stain on Alice's stomach caved in, revealing a gaping hole. Just as she lunged to throttle Misaki, who had also grown, though still wore her school uniform, the dream tilted sharply and faded away. Becoming nothing more than a deep blackness.

Her own age again, and wearing one of her pressed blue suits, Misaki stood in what felt like the center of the gloom, unable to see anything no matter which way she looked. A complete darkness, darker than black, where she couldn't even _sense_ herself, let alone anything that might be sneaking up on her.

This one _wasn't_ a memory, she knew that. It was a dream far worse than the two she'd had before, and anxiety rose quickly in her chest. Time seemed to pass far too quickly in this place, and she began to feel as though she had been standing in the black for years. Then it all listed sharply, and she felt something form behind her.

Whipping around, she was faced with the blue girl she had glimpsed twice now. The one she thought she recognized, yet every time she could almost form a name, it fell away in fragments.

She was hovering in midair, evading the downward pull her classmate had been unable to. Every now and again something would drip from her toes and hit the ground to create silvery ripples. As though they were standing in a pool of ink.

"Your fault," she said in a singsong voice, one arm raised to point at her accusingly.

Misaki tried to ask what she meant, but she couldn't open her mouth. In fact, she couldn't even move. She felt distinctly like she was lying down, frozen in place, but simultaneously looking at the girl as though standing upright.

"Your. _Fault_," she repeated sternly, words reverberating around the black space. "I _remember_ you, good memory, _I remember you_."

Confused, again Misaki made to ask what she meant, again finding herself unable.

Somehow, her surroundings grew darker, the silver ripples becoming wider and deeper. The girl suddenly began to take a more solid shape, blue becoming tinged with different, more natural hues. But before she could take full shape, and with a rush of pressure pushing at Misaki that would have knocked her down had she been standing, she dashed at her with arms outstretched, fingers hooked to wrap around her throat.

"Die!"

Just before they collided, and in exactly the same manner as the two previous dreams had done, this one ended. Instead of moving onto yet another delusion, this time Misaki jolted awake, gasping and sweating. For a moment she merely stared at her ceiling, trying to compose herself, before tilting her head to the side to view a clock that glowed 2:01. The irony failed to escape her attention, and she had not fallen back asleep since.

59 minutes had then passed in silent blankness. She'd thought of nothing in particular, just anything other than her three dreams. Even if she felt ridiculous trying not to acknowledge what she'd just experienced, knowing she'd remember each of them in full when she was ready.

It was 4:30 when she allowed herself to begin to replay her dreams. Li had turned into the Black Reaper and killed her. Alice Wang had died after defending her from a bully. A blue girl had said it was her fault, then screamed for her death. The first put her on edge, seeming like an omen – something she did _not_ believe in. The second merely resonated with the guilt she already felt over being responsible for Alice's demise four and a half years ago. The third confused and frightened her the most.

Who was the blue girl, and what had Misaki done to make her want to kill her?

Licking dry lips with an equally as dry tongue, the ex-police chief began to rise to a sitting position when she noticed for the first time Mao sitting on her stomach, staring at her.

"Good, you finally noticed me," he said, tail curled around his small body. "Did you have a pleasant dream?"

"How long have you been there?" Misaki asked, startled and somewhat disappointed in herself for not noticing him sooner.

"Long enough to know you did _not_ dream well," Mao replied, shrugging as best a squirrel could shrug – which was remarkably well.

"You've been watching me for _four hours_?" she squinted at him, disbelieving.

He rolled his eyes, "I didn't _just_ watch you, Misaki. I dozed off for about an hour and a half after you woke up. I got tired of waiting. I only came to around twenty minutes ago."

Head dropping back against her pillow, the exhausted woman brought up one hand to rub her eyes. "You could have tried calling my name," she said, her voice slightly muffled by her palm.

"I did. What were you dreaming of?" Mao asked.

"Nothing interesting," she lied, then when he continued the silence, gave in and told him everything.

"Him killing you is rather foreboding, though that doesn't mean it's going to happen. Alice is already dead, and you clearly just need to realize it was not your fault…then there's the matter of your last dream," Mao said when she'd finished, "You said you saw a _blue _girl? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, why?" Misaki said slowly, quizzically.

The small mammal shook his head, "No reason; just trying to get the facts straight. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," she again lied, though more convincingly this time around.

"Good, then maybe we can get to work," he suggested, and hopped to the ground as Misaki nodded and made to get up.

No sooner had her feet touched carpet when her cell rang on her nightstand. Surprised that someone would be calling so early, she picked up the phone to check the = ID. Eyebrows raising at the number, she tapped the screen and brought it to her ear.

"Good morning, Chief Kichida," she greeted, meeting Mao's gaze and mirroring his wary expression. Another thing he achieved surprisingly well on the furry face of his host.

"Ms. Kirihara," he said, "I hope I did not wake you?"

"No; what's going on?" Misaki asked, not in the mood to exchange pleasantries.

"Would you be available to join me this morning in briefing my team on the task Director Kobayashi has set before us? I'm afraid your friend Ms. Ishizaki will not be able to join, unfortunately."

Straightening, Misaki nodded immediately and responded with a firm "Yes."

"Thank you; the briefing will occur at 8:00 sharp if you can make in on such short notice, I would like to begin our assignment as soon as possible," Kichida stated.

"I will be there," she said, then promptly hung up. Looking to see Mao gazing at her expectantly, Misaki informed him of the content of their short conversation while getting to her feet.

"You realize you have less than an hour and a half to get ready," Mao said, indicating the time that had already passed in their discussion of Misaki's dreams.

"Plenty of time," she replied, and headed into the bathroom.

**End Chapter 7**

_Darker Than Black Vendetta AMV_

_By: myattackminds_


	9. 8 Purple Planning

UPDATED: 3/22/2015

**8****章**

**紫の計画**

_Chapter 8_

_Purple Planning_

The instant Misaki first entered the room, the sense of nostalgia she felt had been almost overwhelming. The walls were as clean and bare as they had ever been, absent of any kind of adornment. Not even an inspirational poster or honorary photograph available to distract the eye. At the room's center sat a white table lined by chairs on either side. One large window took up the far wall, and was currently open to let in the unusually warm air from outside. On the opposite wall was the only door, and beside it contained the single change to the investigative chamber: a smart board in place of the original white board and projector screen. The projector, long-gone from its corner, had left a somewhat less-faded patch of wall in its place.

It was there Misaki stood, listening as Kichida Toru explained the situation to what had once been her team. There had been surprised faces when she'd entered the room, and they all had made an attempt to greet her in a more formal matter. It was at that moment it became clear that Kichida was in complete control. He'd welcomed her quickly and shortly, then dove right into the case. Though it hadn't stopped the occasional glance her direction, it had given her a sense of pride when the team had immediately turned their attention to the task set before them. Absorbing every detail of what was said.

Kichida, meanwhile, left nothing out. He curbed no details and cut no material whether it seemed relevant or not. Something Misaki had to admire. He'd even gone so far as to copy the manila folder received from Kobayashi, and handed out exact replicas to each member. An uncommon trait among the more current beliefs in "need to know" information that, lately, had become the norm.

"The definition of our job then, is simple," Kichida concluded, reaching to place his folder upon the table. "Keep the peace and catch the criminals. We _will_ locate the Spheres and return them to the Americans to do what they want, then continue with life in accordance to whatever next comes our way.

"Ms. Kirihara here will be something of our liaison to the New Syndicate, and most importantly field-consultant in the capture of the man commonly referred to as the 'Black Reaper', Contractor Messier code BK201, one I am sure you all remember. Not only do we suspect that he has at least two of the Spheres, but also may be on the hunt for the rest of them. Why he wants them, who he may be intending to give them to, or whether he plans on keeping them for himself, we do not know. But we will find out."

Finished speaking, Kichida took a step back from the table and clasped his hands behind his back. Allowing his team the time to fully grasp the information and develop the questions that would soon be entering their minds.

Sitting at the table on Kichida's direct left, Kouno Yutaka slouched in his chair with his arms crossed over his plain black T-shirt and worn maroon leather jacket. With his chin tucked against his chest, his red-tinged, dusty brown hair nearly obscured the look of concern-mixed-dread that downturned his mouth and lowered his brows. Every so often he would glance upwards to view his partner only to return his gaze to the table. Where he stared blankly at the contents of the folder he'd spread before himself. The 32 year old agent had hardly touched the documents since their content had been made clear.

Across from him, his partner's forehead was furrowed so deeply his thick black brows nearly touched, and his jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth hadn't cracked. He too had his arms crossed, though unlike Kouno, 36 year old Saitou Yusuke's back was straight. Pristine suit straining against the tenseness of his frame. He too was staring at the documents he'd been handed, however every so often he would reach over and turn one of the pages. As though memorizing them.

One chair away from Saitou, leaning back in her seat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, Otsuka Mayu stared straight into Kichida's face with brown eyes clouded in thought. Despite the vulnerability the expression was often misconstrued by those who did not know her well enough, Misaki could see that Kichida knew just as well as she this was not the case. There was a reason Otsuka, who had not even broken into her thirties yet, was the contact between the PSB and Astronomics. Her odd, personal hobbies aside, the position she had obtained showcased her exceptional skills in multitasking. Perhaps even _because_ of her literate pastime. Her job required her to know both police work and how to translate whatever jargon she was given in astrophysicist-speak into something her coworkers would understand. Even now Misaki could see the younger woman's mind wrapping around the circumstances. Taking the data and sorting it into useful evidence.

"What are our leads?" she asked, eyes flickering between both Misaki and Chief Kichida.

Kichida shook his head. "Nothing solid. As I mentioned, so far all we know for sure is that the Americans already have the Orange Nebula and the New Syndicate has the Blue and Green. Upon Shima's escape, it seems the Gold and Purple disappeared in the chaos that ensued when she was intercepted, the others having been taken by rival agencies."

"What about this HK436, codename Xiě Hóngsè?" Otsuka said, pulling a paper from the clipboard she carried with her everywhere. "It says here that at the time the Black Nebula was stolen, _two_ stars were active. Both HK436 and BK201 were shining within the vicinity of where the Nebula was activated, and subsequently stolen. How do we know it's not HK436 who has it, rather than BK201? It's claimed he is one of the best within the Chinese forces, he could just as easily have gotten hold of it."

"The Chinese have claimed he was nowhere near the area the Sphere was being kept," Kichida replied.

"They could be lying," Kouno suggested just as quickly, reaching to shuffle the papers before him. "God knows that's happened before. They could just be covering their asses."

"It's possible," Kichida nodded, then turned to add the Contractor's name to the alarmingly short list of suspects. "Though if we investigate the whereabouts of HK436, we will have to tread carefully. There's no sense in damaging our relations with the Chinese, along with the Americans."

"What about this Shima Naoko?" Saitou asked, not looking up from the table. "Where is _she_ now?"

Trading glances with Kichida, Misaki replied with a curt, "We don't know. After she was attacked she disappeared."

"There are a lot of unknowns about this case," Kichida added blandly while writing Shima's name on the list. "Which puts us at a grand disadvantage."

"What are we going to do next, then?" Kouno asked, turning to look at them.

"Reconnaissance," Kichida said, grasping a small black remote off the table next to where he'd put his folder, and crooking it toward the smart board. The screen blinked as he minimized the page detailing sequence of events and possible suspects. Replaced by a generic map of Japan, namely the area surrounding Hell's Gate, which was marked by a thick black circle. Districts were discernable by dotted lines, smaller notable areas of Tokyo by large red dots. Indicating one dot to the northwestern edge of the Gate with the remote's laser, Kichida continued.

"Here is where Shima was first apprehended in Ikebukuro, and here," he said, dragging the light to a spot not far below it, "is where she was later taken to by Madame Oreille, not far from our current position. It is between these two areas, as well as Kagurazaka – further down near where the Americans have taken up occupation – that we will concentrate our search. Somewhere inside that triangle, _outside_ the Gate, is where we suspect Shima was attacked, and where she subsequently disappeared.

"We will first do a sweep of the area, identify clues if there are any, and wait for word from Oreille as to the arrival of our Black Reaper. Miss Ishizaki will contact you, Otsuka, with any information she may glean from the stars, which you will pass along to us via radio. We will also look for Shima, namely within Ikebukuro, on the off-chance she may have returned there to hide. Meanwhile, keep an eye out for the Gold and Purple Nebulae. Perhaps we will be lucky enough to find them tucked somewhere in a gutter or bush.

"I know it's not much to go on," Kichida admitted, eyeing each officer individually, "but until we receive further information it is all we have. Due to any imminent, unforeseen threats that may occur, we will not spread out into thin groups. If by some chance BK201, or any other Contractors looking for the Spheres, have already arrived, small groups will be ineffective. This means it will take far longer to scour the area I have indicated, but it will be far safer. Ms. Kirihara will lead in this endeavor, accompanied by you, Saitou and Kouno. And Mao, of course. Otsuka, you will remain here to transfer forward any information delivered by Astronomics, and I will return to the New Syndicate and attempt to glean whatever information I can from Kobayashi and Madame Oreille. When I am finished I will join you into a wider search."

"Will we not be receiving additional resources?" Saitou asked, incredulous.

The Chief shook his head. "I have requested it, but the government wants this kept as quiet as possible. If word got out that there may be an attack from the Americans, widespread panic would be unavoidable, and our chances of finishing this quickly will be dashed."

"Where will we be starting, er, Ms. Kirihara?" Kouno asked respectfully, the address coming hesitantly from his mouth.

"We will start our search here at Mejirodai Sports Park," Misaki replied, moving to place her finger at a point between Ikebukuro and Kagurazaka. She was instantly glad she had arrived in time to discuss options with Kichida before the briefing, defining her role in working with Section 4. The discussion had delayed the meeting, but she knew as well as he it was much more important to have the facts straight beforehand. Trust was much easier to come by if they could answer questions without the slightest hesitation. "A sizeable disturbance was recorded within the area of the Park, leading us to assume it the spot where Shima was attacked. If we are right, we can adopt the notion that Shima's intentions may have been to return the Spheres to the Gate."

"What kind of a disturbance was it?" Saitou asked, looking up from his papers to pin her with an incisive stare.

"By all counts, an extremely violent one. Evidence of heavy gunfire was recorded in a dense area of the park, with there being very few shell casings recovered for the amount of carnage. There were also witness accounts of bodies that seemed to explode from the inside out, of people flying or appearing and disappearing out of nowhere. One person claims to have even seen one of the attackers throw lightning at another person, though it very well could have been some kind of powerful electric current instead," Misaki finished, her opinions on the last statement clear only in what she did not voice.

"Why didn't _we_ hear about that?" Kouno said, brows raised at his current Chief.

Kichida shook his head, "As close to the Gate as Mejirodai is, the event itself was not reported for a few days. When it was, apparently the case was handed off to a different sector before we ever got wind of it. Like I said, the government wants this incident, and everything dealing with it, kept as quiet as possible, so I doubt we _ever_ would have heard about it if things had not escalated to the point they are now."

A few seconds of silence met the declaration, both Misaki and Kichida waiting for further questions. When none were forthcoming, Kichida turned and flipped the screen back to the list of suspects.

"If that is all, we will waste no more time. I will forward these screens to your mobiles, as well as any other pertinent information," Kichida said dismissively, and without hesitation Misaki moved toward the door.

Picking up Mao who had opted to nap on Saitou's desk during the briefing, Misaki could not have been more anxious than she was leading the way out of the bureau, followed closely by Saitou and Kouno. It was time for them to begin.

**((**))*8*((**))**

Waiting until the room had cleared, Chief Kichida sighed heavily as he hit the send button on the smart board. Then, shutting off the device, he began to clean up the mess of papers left spread about the table. Only Otsuka had taken hers along, disappearing to the break room for her customary cup of caffeine.

It was just when he had about finished, and was readying himself for the trip to the New Syndicate, that he became aware he was no longer alone in the room. Turning only slightly to face the intruder, utterly calm, on recognizing his visitor he sighed once more before speaking.

"Madame Oreille. I must admit I was not expecting _you_ to come to _me_," Kichida remarked mildly with a quirked brow.

The blonde woman smiled, one hand on her hip, the other pushing her large sunglasses up her forehead to nestle in short-cropped hair. Purple highlights streaking through the blonde color matched the exact shade that coated her saucy smile, as well as the outlandish pantsuit she wore. A white scarf was draped over her shoulders, and hooked loosely around her elbows. Matching white purse hanging from the wrist of one arm, it only partially obscured a bracelet of far too large pearls, and a matching necklace dangled loosely about her neck. Ice blue eyes that knew far more than what was good for them looked him up and down, but he stood his ground under her intense scrutiny. He was not fazed by much, and Madame Oreille was no different.

"How cliché, Toru!" she exclaimed lightly, her voice a smooth silk meant entirely to put even the most straight-laced off their guard. "I just thought it was about time we got further acquainted, you and me. In light of our current circumstances, that is. _And_ I believe I may hold some answers to your rather unanswerable questions."

Kichida blinked, unimpressed. "You work too slowly, Oreille. I've already finished briefing my team. If you had been here earlier, I may have had more use for you. Perhaps instead you can accompany me to the New Syndicate? I'm sure the Director would be eager to know just as much as I what you have learned."

"Oh no, Toru, you misunderstand," she said, raising delicate brows to appraise him a second time. "I'm not here about the Nebulae."

"Then what is your purpose here, if you have any?" he said, a little more sharply than he had intended.

"You see, I know many things," she remarked serenely, striding closer to invade his personal space, though he refused to be intimidated. The only reason they were even eye-level was because of her ridiculous heels.

"I've heard," he said, tone flat.

"_Many_ things, Toru," she repeated, and his eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" he asked after a moment's consideration.

"For you to play your part, of course," she said, taking a half step closer until their noses almost touched. Still he did not move, and saw easily the flicker of amusement that crossed her features.

"And what part would that be?" he said obstinately, jaw clenching.

Madame Oreille smiled, expression serene. "Nothing you can't handle, dear."

**End Chapter 8**

_Ex Lege – Anime MV_

_By: myattackminds_


	10. 9 Violet Reunion

REVISED: 1/31/15

**9****章**

**バイオレットの再会**

_Chapter 9_

_Violet Reunion_

"You know, now that I've had the chance to really look at her without feeling like I'm gonna piss my pants, the ol' boss isn't a bad lookin' lady. I can see why you had a crush on her," Kouno smirked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Not caring at all how horribly out of tune he was with the song playing quietly on the radio.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Saitou grumbled, staring sullenly out his window. As far as Kouno was concerned, he might as well have just teleported out of his chair at the station and into the car. Except for the dejected look on his face, his posture hadn't changed.

"Sorry, sorry, _have_ a crush on her, my bad," the younger agent laughed, "still going strong on that front, huh partner? How's Ayame doing, by the way? She forgiven you yet for botching your one year anniversary?"

Eyes narrowing gloomily and shifting his gaze from the window to the back of Kirihara's car as they rounded the corner for Mejirodai, Saitou gave a heavy sigh that was only partially exaggerated. "She moved out last weekend."

Kouno hissed through his teeth, giving his partner and friend a sympathetic glance, "Ouch. Over huh?"

"Yeah," Saitou said on exhale, turning back to eyeing the scenery with little interest as they drove by.

"Hey, think on the bright side: you're free to do whatever you want now! Maybe when this whole thing is over you can finally act on your rekindled crush. It'll be like one of those sappy chick flicks; you could even write a book about it," Kouno suggested enthusiastically. "Just don't forget about your friends when you get famous."

"Shut up," Saitou growled petulantly, then somehow sat up even straighter than before. "Hey, stop the car, we're here."

Coming to a halt behind their former Chief's blue Porsche, Kouno and Saitou wasted little time getting out and hurrying to join her on the sidewalk. The Contractor known as Mao nothing more than a blur as he skittered away further up the path. Clearly they'd already decided _his_ role in the whole ordeal.

Looking about, a quick survey of the area showed no signs of life outside evidence of squatters and teenaged vandalism. None of which was a surprise. Located so close to Hell's Gate, Mejirodai and the surrounding businesses hadn't a chance. Sure, it had limped along for quite a while, longer than most anywhere else similarly distanced to the Gate, but all pretenses were dropped about three years before the Tokyo Explosion. When a fire had ravaged a residential area on the opposite side of the park, and public security had delayed far longer than was normal in getting there. After that, everyone left alive had packed up and moved on. No one wanted to live in a place that didn't care about them.

Now, like everywhere else around the gate, Mejirodai Sports Park was nothing more than a ghost town, an empty, hollow remnant of what Tokyo had been fourteen years ago.

Stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, Kouno turned away from the crumbling remains of a dentists' office across the street to face his partner and old boss.

"Where do we start?" he asked, watching as Kirihara scrolled through the screen on her mobile, a concentrated look on her face.

"We'll head across the baseball field, past the tennis courts and toward the smaller apartment complex on the other side. It's between here and there that the disturbance was recorded to have happened," Kirihara replied, gesturing behind her. "If Shima really _was_ attacked here, and it's where the Gold and Purple Nebulae went missing, our best bet in finding them would be to scour the crime scene and the surrounding space before moving on, just in case the Spheres are still here."

"What do we do if we find anything?" Saitou asked.

"We either take it back to the station, or use it to determine our next destination. Understood? Or do you still have more questions?" she said curtly, pinning the pair of them with a familiar stare.

"Understood, ma'am!" the two men answered unanimously, backs straightening and arms slapping to their sides in attention.

"Good, let's go," Kirihara said, and lead the way down the walk and through the park's entrance.

Striding into the open expanse of field, Kouno Yutaka couldn't help the eerie feeling of being watched crawling up his spine. The Gate looming not far away to his left didn't help him feel any better either, only intensifying the sensation, and he could feel the sweat trickle down his brow towards his eyes. There was a reason places so close to the Gate didn't stay occupied long, and the _wrongness_ that permeated the air didn't help. Even the sky seemed to darken with it; turning a day that started as warm and sunny into one of chill dusk, clouds slowly gathering overhead. A growing storm sketching itself across what had once been a blue sky; starting from the Gate's center and slowly spreading outward.

Or at least it seemed to, from where Kouno was standing. More than likely it was just his imagination. Hell's Gate wasn't even active anymore. Not to mention that the weather report had already predicted cloudy with a chance of rain later in the day, so it wasn't anything unexpected to begin with. But still, being so close to the Gate put his teeth on edge, like something inevitably bad was going to happen at any moment.

As they searched for signs of the reported "disturbance", walking slowly and determinedly, Kouno quietly eased his gun from its holster. Trying very much to give himself a sense of security. It was only when the weapon was cradled in his hands did he happen to look up and notice that both Kirihara and Saitou had done the same. Apparently he wasn't the only one out of sorts, striding across a field that should have been teeming with people, but instead was overgrown and slowly being reabsorbed by nature.

Coming upon the opposite side, feeling horribly vulnerable and exposed, Kouno finally caught sight of what had sent them to the spot in the first place.

Instead of being consumed by trees or bushes, or simply falling away from disrepair, the chain link fence lining the opposite side of the field looked like it had been blasted. Something or someone blowing a hole from where they stood, and into the small clearing beyond. The ground was _still_ scorched from whatever heat had burned into it, the grass and bushes slowly making their way back to obscure the spot. Starting nearly five steps away from the fence line, growing bigger as it neared the center of the clearing then halting altogether just before hitting the following trees. Yellow police tape hung wilted and broken from less brittle portions, forgotten by whoever it was that had commanded the scene.

Taking a deep breath, Kouno followed Saitou and Kirihara through the gap, stepping lightly over bits of heat-mottled metal. Much like the fence, the clearing was not in good condition.

In fact, as far as Kouno was concerned the place may as well have been a war zone. What could have been three grenades had ripped into the earth, two either side of the clearing and one a little to the right of the burn mark. Bushes and trees near the craters were shredded or uprooted entirely. What looked to have been shots from bullets had aeriated the lawn, and either lightning struck at an angle, or an electrical charge, had created a veined line from one corner of the clearing to the other. At least three trees seemed to have exploded from the inside out, splinters the size of his shin, and much bigger, jutting out from any and all other surfaces. Even faint outlines of bodies were still fading from the landscape. Flag markers that hadn't blown away over the past few weeks hanging limply where they had sunk further into the ground.

It all reminded him of the day the Tokyo Explosion had sent a white blanket over the city, when Contractors and humans had battled for what they'd deemed as right. He still had nightmares about it sometimes; of the car Matsumoto had picked them up in being blasted into smithereens by either the military or Contractors while they tried to invade PANDORA. It varied who did it, but the conclusion never changed. Memories of kids getting blown away still haunted him too. Sure, they'd been Contractors, but that didn't make it any better or any more right. They were still far too young.

Giving the carnage a second perusal, he then looked to Kirihara and Saitou, nodding in silent agreement to circle the perimeter of the clearing to the left while Saitou headed the other direction. Kirihara strode for the center, examining ruts that looked like claws marks, it was hard to tell, as she went.

It was all too quiet, and every sound he made was all too loud. He could _hear_ his heart beating, the pace gradually increasing as he made his circuit, looking for any clues that had been missed by the team sent to examine the scene before Section 4 had ever had the chance. Just trying to regulate his breathing even made the tension more noticeable. Every time he made to hold his breath in tighter rein ended with him stepping on a twig or pile of leaves. Earning startled glares from his companions.

Finally, when he had just about finished going around, when Kirihara was kneeling over one of the craters looking in and Saitou was trying to both watch her back and the ground at the same time, the maroon-jacketed officer caught a glimpse of something…different. It sparkled in what little sunlight streamed through the darkening sky. A glittering yellow dust cloud swirling within a glistening shell.

A golden nebula. Trapped inside a glass sphere no bigger than a Ping-Pong ball. The character for Time written on its otherwise smooth surface.

For a moment all he could do was stare, shocked. It was half buried, hidden from view by an overhanging branch and a splinter of wood the size of his shin. The only reason he'd seen it at all being the light bouncing off the glass had just about blinded him.

It was only when Saitou tripped into the very crater Kirihara had been looking into that he snapped from his reverie.

Ignoring Kirihara's quiet, somewhat edgy reprimand, Kouno bent and dug the small object out from its hiding place. Holding it carefully in his palm, he straightened, then continued to stare at it with awe. Mesmerized by the warm shift of the nebula inside its glass cage.

Despite his morose surroundings, he felt somehow, suddenly, immune to it all. It felt like he could do anything or go anywhere and no one would notice because, to them, it would be like he never left. Everything bad in his past melted, and his future seemed secure, all because of what he held in his palm.

Shaking his head to clear the mental fog, Kouno turned to face Kirihara and Saitou. It seemed like he were somehow betraying the Sphere by calling attention to it, but he did his best to disregard the feeling. It was, after all, just an object, not a person with feelings. A unique object, sure, but really no different than the gun in his hand. Both had potential to do something, but unless he pulled the trigger nothing would happen that was out of the ordinary.

Perching the Sphere between his forefinger and thumb, Kouno raised it to eye level and called out. "Hey Saitou, Ms. Kirihara," he said, wincing at the title and feeling horribly uncomfortable calling her that, "look what I found."

Smirking at their startled faces, his wry smile then quickly vanished when Kirihara chanced to look behind him, and her confused countenance turned into one of panic, the color draining out of her face. She didn't even seem to see the Nebula, too focused on whatever was at his back.

"Kouno, look out!" she yelled.

Stunned, chest constricting with dread at the uncharacteristic cry, Kouno made to dodge to the side but, with the feeling of something slamming into his back, found he couldn't move. Gaping, blinking up at the horrified stares of his partner and one-time Chief, Kouno then looked down to where their eyes were pinned and grimaced.

What looked to be a tree branch had stabbed him through the back and was now protruding out the front of his torso. For some reason the pain he knew he should be feeling just wasn't registering, all he could do was stare at it.

In his shock he dropped his gun first, the weapon hitting the ground with a resounding clatter. The Sphere between his fingers dropped to the ground not long after, and it was then his mind became numb with agony. He groaned; it was the only sound he could make. The pain far exceeded any bawling he _should_ be doing.

"Kouno!" Saitou yelled, and distantly he heard a shot go off, felt the bullet whiz by his cheek to whatever was behind him.

Pulled from the gruesome vision of watching his black shirt turn blacker with blood, his legs weakened as soon as he looked away and his sight became marred with dark spots. Looking up, Kouno briefly made eye contact with Kirihara.

"Ch-Chief," he gasped, then everything went dark, a reverberating snap from behind him vibrating through the branch as he fell to the ground.

****((DTB))****

Mao had just about passed the large apartment complex bordering Mejirodai Park and was coming up on the clearing he was to meet back with Kirihara when he saw Hei. Or, at the very least, saw him make to pass him by, darting through the broken glass doors of the building's rear entrance and heading up the same path as Mao.

"Hei!" he couldn't help shouting, and was surprised when the man actually stopped, using his momentum to carry him around to face the squirrel and drawing one of his knives as he did so.

"Mao, what are you doing here?" the Black Reaper asked, voice muffled through the strange substance that made up his smiling white mask. Mao was actually surprised he had any left, as often as he had broken them.

"I could ask you the same thing," Mao replied, wincing at the line. "I'm here with Kirihara and a part of the old Section 4 team; I'm circling the Park for any ground-level clues."

"Section 4?" Hei said, lowering his blade.

"Yes, Kouno and Saitou, actually. Remember them?" Mao said, leaping onto a low-hanging tree branch so as to be eye-level with the Contractor.

"None of you should be here, _why are you here_?" Hei repeated, voice tense with what seemed like suppressed rage, though it was hard to tell. Certainly it couldn't have been concern.

"I already told you, we're looking for evidence," Mao said, "This is possibly the last known location of Shima, the Contractor who stole the Spheres from the New Syndicate. So how about you answer _my_ question this time: why are _you_ here?"

For a moment the Reaper was silent, unmoving. Merely staring at Mao with the black-veiled eye sockets of his mask. Considering the question and possibly whether or not he would answer it at all. Then, reaching into the pouch on his hip, pulled out a slip of paper, unfolded it, and showed it to the squirrel.

"'Mejirodai Park, south end clearing past baseball field'. Where did you get this?" Mao said, studying the letters carefully.

"Yin's old spot," Hei said simply, tone unintelligible, then reached into the pouch again, "It was under this."

Tearing his attention from the note, Mao's eyes widened when he looked at the photograph the Contractor then showed him. While the picture was one he had seen before, a snapshot identical to the one they had observed at New Syndicate Headquarters of the Gold Nebula, it was the pink insignia on its corner that caught his attention. Painted on with what looked like sparkly nail polish, the icon was a circle, inside of which bloomed a lotus. He knew it well, though he hated to admit it.

"You recognize it."

Mao narrowed his eyes, "That's Madame Oreille's signature."

"Hmm," Hei muttered hollowly, replacing both items.

"You don't seem surprised," the possessing Contractor said, watching him closely. "I have to admit, though, I'm not either. It wouldn't have been like her to keep out of it, as the Director said she would. However, I _do_ wonder what she's playing at."

Hei shook his head, then turned to continue on his way, "You should leave while you can, Mao, and take your friends with you. It isn't safe."

"Hang on a moment, what is that supposed to mean? Are you referring to what I glimpsed last night?" Mao asked quickly, balancing on his haunches while the branch swayed beneath him.

"Mao—" he began, but whatever he had intended to say was cut off by the sound of gunfire.

"That can't be good," Mao said earnestly, and leapt from the branch to Hei's shoulder just as he took off, tiny claws digging into the bulletproof jacket beneath him.

Hei didn't even seem to notice he'd picked up a hitchhiker, or didn't care, sprinting toward the source of the gunshot even as a second rang out, then a third. Feeling his anxiety rise above levels far from normal inside the tiny body of his squirrel host, Mao winced as a fourth pierced the atmosphere. Not long after they were bursting through the bushes into unadulterated chaos.

"I knew it couldn't be good!" Mao shouted, leaping into the nearest tree as the Black Reaper broke into the clearing, knife drawn and streaking like a silent black bullet into the fray. It was all Mao could do to hang back, and watch as the drama unfolded before him.

****((DTB))****

For the first few seconds Misaki couldn't blink, couldn't move, couldn't believe what she was seeing was real. It was like she was standing still in a single moment, forever rooted in place. A dream, where things moved outside her vision, and what she should be doing skimming along the surface of her consciousness, but nothing making it through. Nothing registering except one, simple thought.

_This can't be happening_.

Then Saitou was shouting next to her, and she found herself again. Instinct took over where rational thought failed, and she fired off a round into the darkness behind Kouno's frozen form, aiming at a darker shadow in the bushes. She barely missed the young officer in the process, causing her to wince. If anything, at least it seemed to catch Kouno's attention, bringing it up from the bloody root impaling him from behind. Just so he could look her in the eye.

"Ch-Chief," he gasped, and Kirihara flinched at the title. Then his eyelids drooped and he was falling over, the branch snapping in half behind him as he landed on his side.

Gritting her teeth against the cool rage burning in her chest, Misaki fired another round into the bushes, almost in unison with Saitou.

This time the deadly projectiles made contact, but it was not with the shadowy figure who glowed blue along the edges, eyes visible only by red pinpricks of light as he activated his power. Branches similar to those that had struck Kouno were growing from a two-foot splinter behind the officer's body, striking out just as Misaki and Saitou's bullets burst from their weapons. Instead of cutting straight into Saitou, as they would have, were instead burst into raining bits of wood.

At the failure, the Contractor seemed to redouble his efforts, and branches exploded from the splinter like thousands of wooden tentacles, reaching up toward the sky before dropping to pierce the earth and anything else unfortunate enough to be in the way. Both officers rolled away and Misaki stretched her gun hand out as far as she could to let off another round. This time she heard the sound of the projectile slamming into a body, and the shadow faltered. The blue glow went out, as did the red, and out of the corner of her eye Misaki was aware of Saitou crawling as fast as he could to his partner.

"Saitou, hurry!" Misaki said, noticing with wide eyes the Contractor beginning to rally, eyes a piercing, angry red

This time when Misaki aimed, she got to one knee and fixed herself in place, keeping her hands steady and bracing for the recoil. But before she could even begin to squeeze the trigger something slammed into her side. A rough impact that worked quickly to tear her suit jacket and shirt, rough bark splintering into her skin as her attacker's weapon of choice broke in half. Thrown, she rolled for the second time, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through her. Doing her best to ignore the harsh ache of possibly bruised ribs, Misaki jumped to her feet only to have a fist collide with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and putting her on her back.

"Kirihara!" Saitou shouted, trying to pull Kouno away from the scene while fending off more attacks from branches with a partially melted fence pole.

Gasping for air, Misaki's hand twitched around her gun, somehow still clutched in her hand, trying to lift it up enough to aim at the burly man now standing above her. The instant she managed to point the muzzle his way he kicked her forearm, his booted foot landing heavily on her wrist. She gave out a strangled sound as it cracked audibly, not having the breath to shout.

All she could do was watch, tears gathering in her eyes and trying her best to recover her air, while the man pulled a sizeable splinter out of the ground and raised it above his head. Eyes widening, Misaki was unable to look away as his arms began to plummet the makeshift dagger towards her. Astonished that of all the ways she could have died, this would be it. Only distantly was she was aware of Saitou calling her name again.

Then a black blur appeared out of nowhere and collided with the man, and the broken piece of wood landed with a harmless _clunk_ at her side. Blinking rapidly, wondering if she'd seen what she thought she had, or if her frightened mind was just playing tricks on her, Misaki finally inhaled a burning breath and, adrenaline pumping through her veins, scrabbled to a sitting position. Getting up just in time to watch her rescuer plummet a dual-bladed knife into the man's chest from where he had pushed him to the ground. A surge of blue electricity sparked around them. Brighter than the blue glow that outlined the power's source.

"BK201," she rasped, clutching her wrist to her stomach and picking up her gun with her uninjured hand.

He was on his feet again before the words had completely left her mouth, and she twisted to watch him weave through attacking branches as though predicting every move before it was made. Too busy trying to avoid being speared, he didn't move very fast in a forward direction, but it was enough of a distraction for Saitou to drag Kouno away, calling for Misaki to follow him. Fortunately he didn't wait for her, and just before he disappeared Misaki saw the officer put his phone to his ear, no doubt calling out for backup.

Making her way across the clearing in a crouch, Misaki couldn't stop herself risking a glance as the Black Reaper made his way through the branches, knives flashing with powerful electrical charges that sent bits of wood flying everywhere. Then she saw a branch collide with his shoulder, the sharp point failing to pierce the black coat, and he stumbled, barely avoiding a second attack. He was getting tired, and fast, and if she didn't do something she had the sinking feeling he wouldn't make it.

Raising her gun to aim with her less dominant hand, Misaki swallowed, tasting blood from a cut inside her cheek. She squeezed the trigger with far more force than she'd intended, hoping her aim wouldn't be off even as she tripped over the very ruts in the ground she had been examining only a few minutes before. Suppressing a cry as she landed on her damaged ribs, hoping she hadn't turned a bruise into a crack, or worse, Misaki struggled to her knees and turned to face the battle, desperate to see if she had done anything. Relief flooded her; the branches were flailing uncontrolled, as though the head had been cut off from the snake's body. She couldn't stop from smiling, a small one covered in dirt and blood.

Faster than she could blink, faster than her brain could realize what was happening, one of the branches veered her way, cutting into her thigh and tearing away both cloth and flesh before it fell dead onto the ground. She screamed, not even bothering to try and stop it.

"Kirihara!" she heard Mao call out, and saw his small form dart her way out of nowhere.

"Mao, look out!" BK201 shouted, and Misaki watched in horror as the small animal was driven into the ground by another stray tendril of wood.

It wasn't often Misaki felt helpless, or powerless. She'd always done everything she could to avoid that. Becoming stronger and, admittedly, colder and less friendly in her effort to always be the reliable one. The one who was never fazed and could always be counted on to react rationally in any given situation.

But now, watching another one of her companions – her _friends_ – fall into a pool of his own blood, it had turned into one of those rare moments. Unable to move and unable to help, her vision became nothing more than a blur as she raised her gun once again to where the shadow had been. The shadow of the Contractor who had more than likely now _killed_ two people she cared about.

She didn't know she was crying as she squeezed the trigger over and over. Not caring when no more bullets came out.

**End Chapter 9**

_Darker Than Black – Welcome Home_

_By: Kari1Anime_


	11. 10 Yellow Acquisition

REVISED: 1/31/15

**10****章**

**黄色取得**

_Chapter 10_

_Yellow Acquisition_

Sparks flew in every direction as Hei made his way toward the Contractor hiding in the bushes, body outlined in bright blue, vision haloed in red. The intensity of his contract caused the dual bladed knife in his hand to hum with electricity, static snapping from its sharp edges towards the wooden tendrils clawing the air around him. With rapid bursts of electricity he managed to rupture most into blackened splinters, those remaining sliced in half as easily as human flesh. A concept he cringed to imagine, but it didn't stop him from moving toward the branch-wielding Contractor.

As seconds drew into minutes and he had yet to gain any ground, he could feel himself growing further exhausted. Sweat sliding coldly down the back of his neck and along his spine, his lungs burning with the strain of sucking oxygen. The fever that had plagued him since obtaining the Black Nebula had returned with a vengeance. It sapped his strength, stung his eyes and set his skin on fire. He could hardly see through both the red of his contract and the blur of delirious sight.

Thus, when a branch slammed into his shoulder, he was not entirely surprised that he had missed its approach. He grunted through gritted teeth as pain flooded the spot, noticing offhandedly that the sharp point had failed to puncture his coat, instead glancing off the reinforced fabric. Using then the backward momentum it gave him, he barely avoided a second assault that would have torn through his less protected throat. Only to stumble over the severed remains of branches at his feet.

It was while he reeled to regain his balance that a gunshot blasted behind him, and he flinched away as a bullet whizzed past. He heard more than saw the shell make contact with what he presumed was the intended target, and the blue-lined shadow dropped to the ground. Synchrotron radiation dimming, but not disappearing as the Contractor made to crawl away.

Lurching toward the spot to follow and end his opponent now it seemed he had the chance, he was instead halted by a scream from behind. He whirled away from the retreating figure, dropping the hold he had on his contract in order to see more clearly the source of the shout.

Unchecked by their master, the branches had begun to swing wildly in every direction. Darting upwards and down into the dirt or flinging themselves forward into trees or bushes. Motions meant more to distract rather than kill. However, one of the branches had nearly succeeded in just that. Jabbing into Kirihara Misaki's thigh, cutting away cloth and flesh and leaving behind a bleeding gash. The offending branch forcing her off her knees and into a sitting position when its dead weight pushed her over and pinned her in place.

No sooner had Hei taken in the scene than Mao leapt from his hiding place to the ground, his alarmed call distracting the Reaper from destroying the branch that scraped across his back. It looped around him and shoved him to the ground. Preventing him from cutting it down as its tip headed on a collision course with the flying squirrel.

"Mao, look out!" Hei yelled hoarsely, scrabbling to his feet in effort to cut down the assailant before it could hit its mark.

Immediately he saw the squirrel illumined in a brief azure light, then an instant later he was pushed violently into the ground. A pulse of air fluttered the grass around the body of Mao's host, though whether it was from the momentum of the branch, or of Mao's consciousness escaping death a second time, Hei was not sure. Before he could look to the sky in hopes of seeing Mao's star still glowing behind the darkening atmosphere, another cry rent the air. Followed by a hail of bullets.

After two slammed into the back of the same shoulder already throbbing from the branch that had struck him moments before, Hei dodged to the side. Out of the way of the bullets and farther from the last hopeless writhing of branches as the Contractor severed his connection with them. Vaguely he was aware of the approaching of sirens, but the scene before him detracted any attention he may have placed on the sound.

Having come to a crouch not far from where Kirihara sat, Hei watched as she squeezed the trigger over and over. Continuing to do so even when the chamber clicked empty, and tears streaked through the dirt and blood on her face. Despondency and shock coating her features. One arm tucked against her abdomen, the other outstretched, aiming at nothing.

He'd never seen her look so _vulnerable_ before. Not when her friend had died in front of her four years ago, not when Hourai had had her by the throat, and not even when Hei had been the one to put her on the ground. She'd been sad, or desperate, but never vulnerable – and vulnerability did not suit her.

After a moment she finally seemed to realize the futility of her actions, and stopped, though her arm remained outstretched, aiming at nothing. Then her eyes screwed shut and her head bowed slightly, hair that had escaped her ponytail dangling on either side of her head. She sobbed quietly, teeth clenched as more tears cleaned tracks down her cheeks. Shivering as even the air seemed to weigh her down.

Before even he realized what he was doing he was kneeling at her side, returning his knife to the sheath on his thigh then moving his gloved hand to grasp hers, the other gripping the shoulder closest to him. With a gasp she straightened, a pained look crossing her features as she strained her damaged ribs. Peering past the glistening sheen of her eyes, and the slightly bent frames of her glasses, she stared at his mask. Breathing raggedly as he eased the gun away from her.

"Why are _you_ here?" she asked as he tucked the gun into the holster at her hip, voice rasping against her throat.

Hei didn't answer, and instead reached down to grasp the branch holding her in place, using the hand on her shoulder not only to keep _her_ from toppling over, but also himself. With a weary jerk he pulled the shoot from the ground where the end had buried itself, then proceeded to break it the rest of the way off. Tossing the pieces away to reveal more clearly the tear in her pant leg, and the bleeding laceration on her thigh. She hissed when he jostled the cloth and it brushed against the damaged tissue, her now freed hand reaching to grab hold of his wrist.

"Why did you _help_?" she said.

He looked up at red-rimmed eyes that bored into his own past the mask obscuring his face, and instead of replying to either of her demands said, "You need to leave."

The skin under her eyes tightened and her brows pinched together. Seeming not to hear him. "Kouno and Mao," she said, her breath hitching. "They're dead."

She stated it as if it were a gruesome truth, despite not having all the facts to prove the conclusion, and his hand tightened on her shoulder, "You don't know that yet."

Releasing her as she abruptly leaned away, she let go of his wrist as she got to her feet. He stood when she listed dangerously after putting pressure on her damaged leg, but with a quick pitch she righted herself and turned until her back was to him. She limped heavily a few steps away, heading toward a hole in the fence he hadn't seen before, then paused.

"Why are you here?" she repeated, turning just enough so that her brown eyes could again study his mask. "Why did you help?"

Her sight dropping from him to the ground when he still did not answer, more to herself than to him added, quietly, "Surely the logical thing to do would have been to let us die, giving you the chance to ambush them when they least expected it."

Eyes narrowing, Hei wondered if she truly believed that statement.

Had he been any other Contractor, he might have done just that. He _should_ have done just that. Stopping before entering the clearing and instead letting them take each other out.

A notion that hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd run headlong into the melee, eliminating the human, and distracting the Contractor long enough for Saitou to remove his sandy-haired partner. Involving himself in a fight that wasn't his and not quite winning at the end of it. If she hadn't shot the Contractor, there was no telling how it would have ended.

At the thought, Hei countered her question with one of his own. "Why did _you_ help _me_? You could have left; why didn't you?"

She blinked, eyes slowly dragging up his frame to the white smiling mask. A considering expression took over the grief marring her features.

"If I answer your question, will you answer mine?" she said, and Hei gaped, not expecting the counter.

He'd thought that with what he'd intended to be a rhetorical question, she would have got the point he was trying to make. He didn't know why he'd helped them, and he'd – apparently mistakenly – assumed she wouldn't be able to answer his questions either for the same reason. It was supposed to have effectively ended the conversation.

Before he could say anything, she continued. "I helped you because you helped me. You were hit, I couldn't just stand by, or leave, because it would have meant abandoning you after you fought with us. I'm not a Contractor; if someone helps me, I help them back," she said.

It felt like a challenge, despite the mildness with which the words were spoken. Goading him into answering, but also daring him not to. At first he thought he would accept the dare, to stay silent and keep her guessing. To reveal nothing of his intentions or motives since, technically, he owed her nothing. As she had so succinctly pointed out, he had helped her, and she had helped him. They were even. He hadn't agreed to answer question for question, it was she who had gambled that he would. But then again, would it actually hurt to tell the truth?

"Which question?" he said lowly, wondering if she would accept the unspoken terms. She had only answered his one question, after all. He should only have to answer one of hers.

A pained expression straining her face only fleetingly when she again leaned on her injured leg, she didn't even hesitate to say, "Why are you here?"

He was relieved, but not shocked, that she had asked the practical question. There was no answer he could give to the other, but this was one that would not take long to reply to.

Reaching into the pouch on his hip, Hei removed the note and photograph he had shown Mao not so long ago. Silently, slowly, he approached and handed them to her. She took them with a quizzical furrowing of the brows, reading the note and examining the photo while he stepped back.

"I followed directions," he said quietly.

Whether she recognized the insignia on the photo as Mao had, he could not tell, and he didn't protest when she tucked the papers into her jacket pocket. He had no more use for them now it seemed it was nothing more than a trick with unknown consequences. Though when she looked back up at him, he could see one of the costs was to give her more questions. It was now his unspoken terms would be tested, and when she opened her mouth to speak he braced for the barrage.

"I won't arrest you," she said instead, taking him by surprise. "But don't think I won't next time. I still have questions that need answers – more, now. And there's too much at stake for me to let you get away again after this."

With that she tore herself away and disappeared through the gap in the fence. Just as the sound of sirens grew louder. Knowing he would have plenty of time later to ponder their exchange, Hei judged he had at least ten minutes before the clearing would be flooded with police, and decided that leaving before they had the chance to get closer was his best option.

Spinning around to give the clearing one last look-over in case he missed something. Nothing remained of the battle that had been waged except for the dead man's body and the twisted remains of a tree growing from a splinter of wood. There were other marks of a previous battle, some he thought he recognized, but of which he himself had taken no part in. Something he was not too bothered by. Judging from the various Contractor abilities displayed in the carnage, he doubted he would have made it out alive had he been involved. At least not without serious harm.

Taking a step to vacate the spot, his escape was halted when a familiar voice called down from the tree closest to him.

"Now that was interesting; for a second I thought I was watching a soap opera."

"Mao, why are you still here?" Hei asked, tilting his head up to view the speaker, slight relief relaxing the tenseness in his shoulders.

"I just stopped by to show off my new form," a crow muttered through a clacking beak, staring down at him with eyes that were far too intelligent for the size of its brain. "And to see if you were okay, of course."

Hei's look was skeptical behind his mask, and a short, croaking laugh escaped the feathered animal at his silence.

"I'm kidding," he said. "I just came back to see what the results were of the fight when I stumbled across your little drama a bit ago. That was quite a risk, giving Kirihara the notes."

"You should leave, too. It's not safe," Hei said. Dropping his gaze from the bird to the space Kirihara had occupied only moments before, he then straightened and headed again toward the edge of the clearing.

"Hold on a minute," Mao said, all humor gone from his voice. "You mentioned that same thing earlier, and I still want to know what you meant by it. _Why_ isn't it safe? What was that thing I saw last night?"

Stopping before the dark stain in the grass left behind by Saitou's partner, Hei considered an answer. Sweat unrelated to his recent fight trickled down his back. He was taking a risk even staying a few more seconds, and it wasn't himself he was concerned for. If _she_ found him and Mao was still here…he clenched his fists at his side, then turned slowly back around and looked up to where Mao sat perched.

"Izanami," he said quickly, knowing the fastest way to get rid of the crow being to give him the information he wanted. "She's alive, Mao, and following me. Killing Contractors wherever I go, but leaving me alive. If she finds me and you're around, you won't last."

Mao's wings flapped with agitation and allowed his host to release a loud squawk. "You can't be serious?" he said once he'd managed to regain control of his body.

Hei nodded, and Mao's head twitched spasmodically.

"_How_? I thought you killed her in the Gate two years ago? Kirihara and I _both_ saw it happen!" Mao exclaimed.

Gritting his teeth, Hei shook his head. He didn't know how or what Mao and Kirihara had seen two years ago, but it wasn't _Izanami_ who died that day.

"Leave," he said roughly, "get as far away as you can."

Black bird hunkering down, Hei could tell it was with great reluctance that Mao spread his wings and leapt into the sky. Circling once, the crow left with a bid for the Black Reaper to be careful then vanished out of sight.

Like Kirihara, Hei watched him go before taking his leave. Stepping over the bloodied grass and walking carefully through the knotted branches.

He didn't get far. After stepping over a rather large root, he nearly toppled to the ground when something rolled under his heel. Growling and flailing wildly, he barely managed to refrain from falling onto the seat of his pants. Somehow finding his footing, he glared down at what had tripped him only for the expression to morph into one of surprise. Not trusting his eyes, he pulled the mask from his face, expecting as he did so for the object to disappear. Instead, the hand now holding his mask dropped limply to his side.

He couldn't believe it. Lying on the ground, undamaged by either his foot or the skirmish that had waged around it, lay a Nebula. An exact replica to the one he already carried, though instead of a swirling black shadow, inside of it curled a glittering gold cloud. And all he could do was stare at it, aware only distantly of police sirens echoing much, much closer behind him. Only when it seemed he would be forever frozen to the spot did he crouch down and lift the Sphere, brushing bits of dirt from its surface.

Immediately he was aware of the aura that surrounded it. A familiar sense that brought an almost pained look to his face. It was eternal, the very essence of agelessness wafting from its glossy surface in deep pulses that echoed the very beat of his heart. It wasn't at all like the nausea and sickness that saturated the Black Nebula. It was pure, unadulterated, pushing back ever so gingerly against the fever that throbbed around the edges of his conscious.

His hand tightened around the deceptively fragile-looking glass, and with a swift movement tucked it into the pouch next to its cousin. Shying away from the memory the character of Time written clearly on its side had brought, Hei darted out of the clearing. Not knowing specifically where he was going, just that he had to get _away_.

The police were coming and soon they would flood the area. He didn't think there was anything Izanami could or would do against humans, but it was not a risk he was willing to take.

****((DTB))****

When Jacob Andrews threw himself out of the overgrown shrubbery of Mejirodai Sports Park and into the burnt remains of the residential section beyond it, all he wanted to do was take a long shower and fall into a dreamless sleep. Every bit of him ached from the strain of his contract, but most of all from the wounds he had sustained. It wasn't often he was on the receiving end of such damages, so when he'd felt the first bullet graze deeply against his hip he could hardly comprehend its happening. When he was hit a second time, he had to believe he'd gone mad.

For not only had the bullets damaged the well-defined body he had worked hard to sustain, they had _ruined_ his favorite turtleneck and dark gray, double-breasted coat. He could see the blood staining the clothing even now, and was filled with a distinct sense of disappointment. It was true he owned nearly identical items back in his rented room, but still. These he had painstakingly broken in over the past few months, and now he would have to do it all over again with a different set. It was aggravating, to say the least.

But before he could do anything to right his appearance, he first had a price to pay.

Falling to his knees, Jacob reached solemnly into the pocket of his coat and withdrew from it a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. With hands that shook from the pain the bullet caused lodged somewhere in his shoulder, he placed one of them between his lips and proceeded to light it. After one long drag to calm his nerves, he removed it with two fingers, rolled up his sleeve, and placed the burning end onto his forearm. He groaned loudly as the embers seared into him, adding yet another scar to his growing collection. Once he'd successfully extinguished the cigarette, he repeated the action a second time with a new one, then a third. All three in close proximity to the other.

Finished with his fourth and final act of payment, he lit a fifth before getting slowly to his feet. He had wasted only five minutes, at most, but if he wished to get away cleanly he would probably have to run. Grimacing at the idea, he released a cloud of toxic smoke from between his lips then took off across the street and into the alley between scorched residences.

It wasn't long before he ran out of breath, and when he crossed the second block passed the Mejirodai Nursery, he collapsed onto the sidewalk. Sure, he exercised often enough, but there was a big difference between being well-rested before a run than there was sprinting with bullet holes through the torso. They drained his strength, and he remembered the woman who had done it to him with a scowl. If he ever saw her again, he would make sure she regretted shooting him. Never mind that she may have been just in doing so – after all, he had probably killed that bastard in the cheap jacket – but that didn't make it okay.

It was his _favorite_ coat.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Jacob Andrews got achingly to his feet and was about to lope gracelessly across the street when the telltale sound of squealing tires caught his attention. Looking up the road, wondering if he had imagined it, his eyes widened when he saw the silver front of a menacing-looking Charger. And not even the most current version, either, though the throaty roar of its engine as it sped towards him suggested otherwise.

It wasn't, however, the car itself that caught his attention. But the telltale police lights on its roof which were, remarkably, off. As was the siren. A very _bad_ sign, as far as he was concerned.

Troubled less now for his coat, and more for his well-being, Jacob only made it halfway across before the car cut him off. Tires bouncing off the sidewalk. Then, before he could even activate his contract, the driver leapt out the door and tackled him to the ground. Weak enough already, it didn't take long for the man to wrench his arms behind his back and slap a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists.

Shouting a string of expletives at the pain it induced, Jacob tried his best to escape the grasp of his assailant without avail. As tired as he was, he hadn't a chance. Except, of course, for his one advantage over the man currently forcing him into the backseat of his car without a word as to who he was or why he had arrested him.

Reaching into the part of him that would most certainly free him and allow him to exact a certain amount of revenge on the man, Jacob was shocked to grasp and find…nothing. The contract that he had gone through hell to receive was gone, without any sign or indication that it was going away.

Too flabbergasted to fight back anymore, Jacob allowed himself to be shut inside the vehicle and thrown about as the driver raced his way further from Mejirodai. Where they were going or why he had been apprehended, or how he was even found, no longer a concern in Jacob's mind.

His contract was gone, and he had no idea what happened to it.

**End Chapter 10**

_Slay It – Darker Than Black AMV_

_By: Twisted_Joker_


	12. 11 Amber Antecedence

REVISED: 2/1/15

**11****章**

**琥珀の先行詞**

_Chapter 11_

_Amber Antecedence_

She traversed the burned building with the flowing grace of water through a calm stream, every movement smooth, lissome. From the quiet clack of her black heels, to the flowing waves of luminescent blue hair. Even the expression on her face was tranquil as a river, marred only by the sanctimonious lilt to pale pink lips. Though the body she wore was not her own, she had claimed its every fiber, taking the form she had stolen and improving upon it. Molding it into something far more compelling and self-assured. Something the original owner had never been.

Although she easily could have travelled up the building by the liquid form with which her host favored, Izanami instead took the stairs. One step at a time, fingers skimming daintily over charred wallpaper. If she materialized in front of or nearby him, he would hear her coming. The pinging of water as she moved from one pool to the next announcing her arrival as easily as if she had rung a doorbell. Right now, she did not feel like doing that.

No doubt, in her long absence, he had likely dozed off, and the part of her so thoroughly influenced by the platinum blonde girl liked watching him sleep. It was the only time she didn't feel the urge to kill him, when he looked so very human her natural inclinations were subdued. A secret pleasure that kept her from turning his temporary sleep into something far more permanent. Yet even when he was awake, the desire to kill was far less influential than it was with the others she had disposed of.

The Contractor who was not a Contractor. The man who was not a man. She knew she would have to kill him eventually. All Contractors must die to force the inevitable meeting of ends, her true purpose, and a result she herself was not entirely aware of. But while she waited for the meaning of her existence to make itself known once again, she would be satisfied with occupying her free time playing him a little longer.

When Izanami finally set foot on the level he had decided to hide himself away in, it was as though she had not climbed five stories of stairs. Her breathing remained even and completely unnecessary. Every step as solid as the first, not a single one flawed by the tiredness human muscle would have experienced from such a climb. One of the benefits to being composed of pure energy, an entity occupying the body of a particular Doll's stolen specter, did not have to go through such things.

Fingers curling around the door-less frame to his chosen room, Izanami stepped lightly over bits of broken glass to the center. Violet eyes scanned the space meticulously, looking for the black-clad figure she was sure was waiting for her. But as she turned one circle, then another, and found him nowhere, she was seized by an angry alarm.

He wasn't there.

_He wasn't there_.

Unlike the first time she had lost him, Izanami did not panic. She did not tear apart the hotel room in search of what she would not find. It did not surprise her as much that he would try to lose her. He had done it once, and she had known chances were high he would do it again. But that did not make it okay.

Fury burned upwards from her core, lining blue hair in red strands, violet eyes flashing while she turned and strode out of the room. Only an instant did she entertain the thought of scouring the entire hotel in hopes he had simply changed locations, but decided against it. Despite the implications she had given him of what would happen if he disappeared a second time, he had done so. There was no chance he would risk her ire to simply change rooms.

Stopping at the edge of the stairs she closed her eyes and felt the solidity of her form melt away. Becoming nothing more than the specter she had occupied upon first leaving the Gate. Immediately her form shifted to stand within the closest pool of water at ground level – a puddle produced from a broken sink in the kitchen – after which she concentrated on looking through other bodies of water as though looking through tiny windows.

Not knowing where he would have gone, she knew it would take time to find him, but she was patient. A storm was brewing overhead, and if luck was on her side, it would rain. Though even if it did not, she would _succeed_ in her endeavor. There was nowhere he could go that she would not find him. Not this time.

And he _would_ regret leaving her.

****((DTB))****

Hours before the conflict had been waged within the clearing at Mejirodai Sports Park, a Chinese man with short-cropped black hair and just as black eyes was exiting a plane at Narita International Airport, a bitter sneer twisting his lips. He wore simple clothing: a silver, long-hemmed shirt of Chinese design, black trousers, and cotton-soled shoes. In one hand he held the sleek gray form of a mobile phone, thumb poised expectantly over the screen, awaiting an inevitable call. While his other hand was tucked neatly into one trouser pocket, fingers idly clinking together two Spheres he'd stowed away there as he stalked through the terminals.

After spending a little less than twenty-two hours on a plane flying from Cape Town, South Africa to Tokyo, Japan, Xiě Hóngsè was not in a good mood. Trapped on a plane with so many humans set him on edge, listening to their pathetic conversations and futile attempts at living. The only thing that had kept him from massacring the passengers being the Nebulae in his pocket. Or, more accurately, one specific Nebula.

Stepping into the afternoon weather outside the clotted building, the man waved down a cab and slipped inside. Then, after giving directions in English, sat back against the seat and pulled the Red Nebula from his pocket. Cell phone still clutched in his other hand, he brought the Sphere up to eye level, admiring the swirling red fog inside of it.

On the plane, the Red Nebula had been a surrogate for causing real pain. An object that dripped hurt and injury as though it bled with it. Sensations of cutting skin and breaking bone flowing from its surface to his hand, down his arm and into his chest. Its color mesmerized him as much as the aura it produced, a cloud formed of different shades of red curling around each other. When he had activated it the first time, the Nebula had sparkled as though a million stars had lit within, splashes of gold crowning its edges. At the time he had not been able to use it, but the sheer power it gave him almost caused him to abandon his job entirely, and keep it for himself.

Almost.

Fortunately, selfish desires paled in comparison to what would best serve him in the long run. One of the advantages to being a Contractor, as far as he was concerned. It wasn't that he didn't have emotions, but their presence was dulled by rationality. They didn't matter as much anymore, keeping his bloodlust in check while at the same time as providing him the best method of killing that he otherwise would never have dreamed of.

As the car swung around a corner and further from Narita Airport, the phone in Xiě Hóngsè's hand began to vibrate. Tucking the Sphere back into his pocket, with a swipe of his thumb the Chinaman answered the call, not bothering to check the ID.

"How was your flight?" an accented voice asked, and Xiě Hóngsè's content expression disintegrated into a scowl.

"Why did it take so long to get me here? I had the Red Nebula _weeks_ ago," Xiě snapped, glaring at the back of the cab driver's head. "I could have had this job done by now."

"Relax, Hóngsè; we simply needed time to ascertain the locations of the other Nebulae. If there were others in different countries, like the Red Nebula, we would have had to send you there instead," the man replied smoothly.

"You could have sent someone else," Xiě said.

"And risk one of our own? Nonsense," he laughed, and Xiě Hóngsè glared harder at the cab driver.

"August 7 –"

"Go to your hotel, Hóngsè, and await further instructions. Remember, how you do on this assignment will determine your future with MI6. If you fail, if you decide to betray us or keep the Nebulae for yourself, we will hunt you down. Is that understood?" August 7 said, and Xiě Hóngsè gritted his teeth.

"Understood," he said with a sneer, and hung up before the man could continue, stuffing the phone in his empty pocket.

As soon as he had the chance, Xiě was going to end the Magician. He'd had enough of the red-cloaked freak's attitude; it was about time someone taught him some _manners_. Though since at the end of the lesson he'd be dead, he would be sure only to teach him the basics.

Unlike BK201.

At the thought a cruel smile curved his mouth, expression menacing as he turned his gaze to the scenery outside his window. Xiě hated flying, but he would have tolerated a much longer one if it would have brought him closer the Black Reaper. After their encounter in China, he had determined he would be the one to kill the pathetic coward. How the scrawny _boy_ had obtained such a reputation was beyond Xiě Hóngsè. He, for one, had not been impressed. Sheer luck alone had allowed the famed Reaper to take the Black Nebula from him, and pure skill on Xiě's part for him not to take the Silver currently stowed in his pocket with the Red.

But that did not change the fact he had lost the Black Nebula to someone far weaker, and that was simply inexcusable. The Magician's mockery had not helped him in the least, either. Only fueling Xiě Hóngsè's unreasonable desire for revenge. For not only had his loss to the Reaper damaged his reputation as a ruthless Contractor, it had harmed his standing with the SIS. If he could not be trusted to defeat the Reaper, what good was he? It only made him no better than the other pitiful louts that had lost to the masked Contractor.

Xiě Hóngsè knew he was better, and he would prove it. He would collect all the Nebulae and kill the Black Reaper. He would make a name for himself, and no one would dare get in his way after that.

**End Chapter 11**

_Darker than Black {Mind Heist}_

_By: Macerwolf3_


	13. 12 Emerald Machinations

UPDATED: 1/31/15

_Author's Note:_

_I have added dialogue into chapter 10 after Hei helps Misaki that you may want to read, but other than that, everything is staying the same that I have already written._

_Thank you for your patience!_

**12****章**

**エメラルド陰謀**

_Chapter 12_

_Emerald Machinations_

Sighing heavily, Otsuka Mayu pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and leaned tiredly back in her chair. It seemed as though she'd been waiting ages for a call from Ms. Ishizaki, occupying her time with reports and, every so often, making notes for her own literary exploits. All of which had required her to stare non-stop at a computer screen. An occupation that, usually, wasn't so bad. Except for times like now, when she was forced to remain at the station while the boys and Ms. Kirihara were out having far more _interesting_ adventures.

In moments like these she sorely missed the now retired Matsumoto. At least when he had been with the unit, it had given her someone to talk to during the time the younger officers were out attempting to tail suspects or doing some real detective work. She hadn't minded so much, back then, how she was left behind either at headquarters or Astronomics. But back then, she also hadn't participated in much field work, being a liaison.

But when Section 4 had been disbanded, and Astronomics shut down, she finally had a taste of what she'd been missing out on. Reassigned to a unit that had required her to participate hands-on at crime scenes, she discovered her knack for deduction. Certainly she was no Sherlock Holmes, but it had fascinated her. In those two years she had made new friends, along with keeping her old ones, created contacts in other departments, and even gotten her gun license, allowing her to carry even now. Though the mangled bodies and emotional strain in seeing families torn apart was something she did _not_ miss, she couldn't help feeling somewhat demoted in coming back to Section 4. Where it seemed nothing had changed, and the two years she'd spent working elsewhere had never existed.

Not that she didn't like her job anymore, or that she regretted returning, but she _was_ a little jealous and indignant. Though she did get more field time working under Kichida, more often than not she was consistently made to remain indoors. She understood why, it was what the job required, but still; a chance to prove her worth in the field once and for all would not be unwelcome.

With another, longsuffering sigh, Otsuka bent back toward her computer screen and continued clacking at the keyboard. Once again concentrated on her work, she did not notice at first that someone had come up next to her, and it was only when the person had repeatedly called her name did she finally look up.

"Chief!" she said, a little embarrassed that it had taken so long for her to notice him.

"I'm heading out," he said, not seeming to notice her fluster. "If you receive any information from Ms. Ishizaki call Ms. Kirihara immediately. I will not have my phone on."

"O-okay," Otsuka said. She wanted to ask where he was going, and why his phone would be off, but refrained from doing so. Kirihara may not have exactly welcomed such questions back when she'd been in charge, though she had taken them in stride when asked. But Otsuka had yet to discover whether or not the new Chief of Section 4 would take equal kindness to such things.

Watching him walk out of the offices, Otsuka turned back to her computer. Instead of continuing with her report, however, found her mind wandering back to what kind of exploits Saitou and Kouno were having. No doubt they were having far more exciting undertakings than she, and it was then she decided she would have to get back at them, somehow. Maybe she would change the passwords on their computers again; that always sent them in a tizzy, especially since they never found out she had been the one to do it the first four times.

Smiling deviously, Otsuka stood from her chair to round the desk to where their computers sat, only for her phone to begin ringing in her pocket. Blushing at the Rose Morris theme song tinkling from her vicinity, she made quick work in pulling the device from where it was tucked away and answering, casting a humiliated glance at the few other occupants of the room.

"Hello?" she asked, ducking back into her chair.

"Otsuka!" Ms. Ishizaki exclaimed loudly into her ear, "Are you still at the Bureau? Is Kichida there?"

"Yes, and no," Otsuka said, somewhat surprised the astrophysicist would ask after the Chief, "he just left."

"Shit," the woman snapped, "Misaki isn't answering her phone; do you have Kichida's number? Or Saitou and Kouno's?"

"Kichida forgot his phone, but I can give you Saitou's. Why, what's going on?" Otsuka said, wincing at the white lie. She wasn't sure telling Ishizaki that Kichida had deliberately turned his phone off would help her opinion of him, considering as bad as it already was.

"Damn it, could you call them for me? I'm sending you the data right now. Three stars are active, including BK201, but I don't have the time right now to deal with it. Something is wrong with the Shion Network, the Dolls are going haywire and aren't responding to any commands and I can't do anything else right now until I figure out what's wrong. I haven't even been able to look up much on the first star, either, but what I did manage to find didn't look good. Could you do that too before passing along the information?" Ishizaki said in a rush of air.

"Y-yeah, I can do that. Is there anything else I could do to help?" she asked, heart pounding as she clicked open her email.

"Just make sure Misaki gets that information, I'll call you later once I calm down the Dolls!" she said, and hung up before Otsuka could do or say anything else.

Gaping slightly at her mobile's screen, Otsuka then set it aside to study her computer monitor. A new message from Astronomics blinked in front of her, and she clicked on it. Star charts and data tabs burst open, and she sorted through them with an expert eye. Making sure to scan every document thoroughly before printing them.

"KL586, BK201, and HM432," she muttered to herself methodically, memorizing the codes while minimizing the email's contents to click a different icon.

The instant it opened, she typed in the first star, KL586, and her eyes widened with disbelief at the results. Reading over the information, committing it as much to memory as possible, she then quickly printed them before moving on to BK201. Even though she already knew what she would find, it wouldn't do to skip over the star. Kichida required full details in his reports, even if he already knew the information.

Moving on after printing the file on BK201, she typed in HM432 and waited for the findings to appear. The Messier code was familiar, but she wasn't sure why. But when the page came up, she was almost as startled to see the star's owner as she was with the first code she'd typed in.

"Mao?" she said, eyes skimming over the file as she printed the papers. "Why was _he_ active?"

No sooner than she had asked the question her phone again buzzed to life next to her keyboard, and she quickly lifted it to her ear.

"Otsuka!" Ishizaki shouted into her ear, and the young woman just about toppled out of her chair. It couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty minutes since Ishizaki had first called, and the manner in which she announced her identity had not altered. Though she sounded, somehow, even more panicked than the first time.

"What is it? Did you find out what was wrong with the Shion Network?" Otsuka asked worriedly, rising from her chair to collect the papers from the printer.

"Forget the Network, I'm coming to pick you up," she said quickly, "Misaki called me from Saitou's phone; something's happened to them; they're going to Seibo Hospital."

"What?" Otsuka said in a gasp, nearly dropping her clipboard and the documents she had place on it.

"Meet me outside the Bureau," she said, and hung up for the second time that day without waiting for a response from the Astronomics liaison.

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Otsuka grabbed her purse and tucked her clipboard under her arm before running from the office. Her heart pounded as she went over the files she'd uncovered of KL586, and wondered what could have happened that caused Mao to use his contract, and how BK201 was involved. The squirrel had only been active for an instant, and she wondered if it had been long enough for him to switch bodies; though it didn't seem like it. KL586 had by far been active the longest, but BK201 had been a close second.

On exiting the Bureau and waiting for Ms. Ishizaki's little car to appear, Otsuka couldn't help asking herself one question as she bounced impatiently on her heels, "What's going on?", and hoping that whatever had sent the trio to the hospital was not as serious as it seemed.

****((DTB))****

Having hardly set foot inside the mediocre establishment that made up the hotel MI6 had set him up in, Xiě Hóngsè was subsequently, warily surprised when his phone began to vibrate. His call with August 7 had ended barely an hour and a half before, and he found it difficult to believe that they had decided what to do with him in such a short amount of time. No organization he had ever worked for had moved that quickly, and when he looked at the blocked number blinking on his cell screen, he felt his suspicion justified.

No one other than MI6 had his number – he didn't even get telemarketer calls on it – so the chances that an unknown caller getting it should have been zero. It was supposed to be secure, and he was supposed to be untraceable. For a moment he considered ignoring it for those very reasons. If he answered, he chanced compromising his position. But just when it had about reached its final ring, his thumb swiped over the screen of its own accord, accepting it, and he quickly raised it to his ear.

"Xiě Hóngsè," a voice said, and the man scowled.

He couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman speaking on the other line, but more than that his confusion was compounded by whoever it was knowing his name. Even though he didn't recognize them in the slightest.

"Who is this?" he asked gruffly as a result, free hand clenching into a white-knuckled fist.

"I'm going to give you a time and a place. You will go there, and you will not be late," his caller said in a way that bordered no refusal.

"Why would I do that?" he said, the demand irking him almost as much as the mysterious identity.

"Because you want what I have," the voice replied in the same, emotionless monotone.

"And what is it you have?" Xiě snarled, rapidly growing tired of the conversation.

"The Green and Blue Nebula," they replied.

At the words, Xiě froze, eyes boring into the heavy window drapes hanging in front of him. Compared to his current bewilderment, irritation, and caution, what he had felt before was nothing. Because, of all things the Chinese Contractor was, an idiot was not one of them. He knew better than to adhere to the words of an unknown caller telling him what he wanted to hear.

However, the fact they knew him by name, and had somehow got hold of a number only MI6 was aware of, gave him pause. After his initial skepticism, a light began to seep through his conscience. Perhaps it was a test, set up by MI6? To see how truly worthy he was and if he was willing to take a risk to get them what they wanted. It wasn't something he would put past them, especially someone like the Magician.

"Who are you?" he repeated, using the question to buy him time to think, knowing they would not deign to answer him.

What they said instead, cut off whatever train of thought Xiě had been traveling down.

"BK201 will be there as well," and Xiě Hóngsè licked his lips dryly.

Again, the caller was telling him what he wanted to hear, and the idea it was a test by MI6 again made itself known. Only the Contractor himself, and MI6, knew of Xiě's distaste for the Black Reaper. Only they knew he would be tipped over the edge between refusal and acceptance with such a delectable offer, and so it was then he made his decision.

"Tell me where and when," he said.

Listening to the directions he was given, the question of it not actually being MI6 crossed his mind, but he brushed it aside. Even if it wasn't the SIS setting him up, it didn't matter. If the caller had lied to him, he would dispose of them easily, and his current employers would be none the wiser of what he'd done. Although, if the caller _wasn't_ lying, and wasn't MI6, he would only be proving his worth in obtaining the Green and Blue Nebulae before being told.

And how he would love rubbing _that_ in the face of August 7.

****((DTB))****

Flipping her phone shut with a smart click, the black haired woman then tucked the red device into her suit pocket, and straightened her jacket expertly. It hadn't taken very long or very much effort to convince the man to go where she wanted him to, but she didn't have to wonder as to how. His decidedly male confidence made the answer to that question distinctly clear. She had seen his kind often enough, even in Contractors. Where pride and ego overruled the importance of logical, critical thought.

He would do whatever she wanted, but only because he thought himself incapable of defeat. Too focused on what he considered the inevitable outcome in his own triumph, should things not go the way he expected. It was always a little satisfying, then, to put his kind in their rightful place in the harshest way imaginable. After all, when it came to an all-out fight between her and people like Xiě Hóngsè, his type were always the _first_ to go down. Always.

Gripping the _tsuka_ of her battle-worn _bokken_ expectantly, Hazuki Mina turned only marginally when a chair clattered behind her, wheels skipping over computer wires that lined the floor.

The cause of the small commotion coming from her lanky companion, a young man of about 23 who had started their mission in a black three-piece suit, but had quickly disposed of the jacket on entering the warm confines of the room they were now in. Something of a genius with computers, Kitaoji Ike's only other redeeming quality, as far as Hazuki was concerned, was his compliant attitude. He did what she told him to, and she was thus able to get what work she needed done quickly and efficiently. Otherwise, he was useless. Clumsy and absentminded, a trait displayed even now.

He seemed to be doing several things at once. Avoiding stepping on the unconscious security guard at his feet while simultaneously tapping away at a keyboard and pushing the chair out of his way when it consistently rolled back to rap his ankles.

"Ike, have you found it yet?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"They changed their system again," he said around the firm grasp his teeth had on his bottom lip, "but I've almost got it.

"Hurry," she said, though her voice was devoid of any urgency.

With the security guard out cold, the chances that anyone could possibly know they were there were slim to none. Though even if they were discovered by an errant employee, it wouldn't take much to get away cleanly. Her only problem with their situation, in fact, was not the pressure of being caught. Rather, her impatience to get their current task over with. Inactivity made her think too much about things she'd rather not think about; the sooner she could get moving, the better.

"There," the man said, straightening to view the camera display that blinked to life directly in front of the thoroughly unimpressed female.

"Where is she?" Hazuki said, scanning the myriad of images showcasing the halls and rooms located within the New Syndicate.

"Uh, here," Kitaoji said, and after a few clicks on the keyboard, one of the small camera shots expanded. Not taking up the entire screen, but big enough that their target's movements were easily identified.

Eyes narrowing at the bottle-blonde sifting through Kobayashi's desk, Hazuki was only marginally amazed that Oreille had been right. Though the Madame could not possibly have known for sure that the Director's secretary would make her move now, she had instead proved once again her ingenuity. In the domino effect that caused Kobayashi to leave the New Syndicate after receiving a rather alarming phone call, he had provided his unknown mole the chance she had been waiting for.

"There she goes," Kitaoji commented not long after Hazuki had made her disinterested observation, and the pair watched as the woman darted from behind Kobayashi's desk and out of the room entirely. As she moved, Kitaoji's fingers flew over the keyboard, following her progress through the mostly empty halls of the New Syndicate. "Oreille was right; she's heading straight for the vault. Are we going to move to intercept?"

"Not yet," Hazuki replied, "not until she has left the building."

Glancing down at the security guard groaning at his feet, Kitaoji Ike nodded nervously and turned back to his clacking, working to provide Hazuki a clear view of the secretary's progress through the New Syndicate. And, as she watched, for the first time in a long time Hazuki allowed her lips to curl into a small smile.

The stupid woman would never know what had hit her.

**End Chapter 12**

_Sick of It [Quickening Round 1 – Group B]_

_By: xPockying_


	14. 13 Chartreuse Imposition

_Quick Author's Note:_

_Rating will be changed from M to T due to the fact I don't think I've written anything explicit that would require an M rating…yet. Nor am I sure it will become necessary for an M rating in the future, and on the off chance it does, I'm considering just posting any of those chapters/excerpts elsewhere. Possibly where they may be more welcome._

_Thanks!_

**13****章**

**シャルトルーズ賦課**

_Chapter 13_

_Chartreuse Imposition_

"Chief!" Saitou shouted when Misaki finally emerged into the chaos of police cars and ambulance, startling even himself at the title. For a split second he seemed to consider correcting his mistake, only to shake his head and continue his jog to her side.

As he approached, Misaki noted with a growing sense of guilt the bruises forming around one eye and across his neck. A split had swelled his bottom lip, and a slightly red-stained bandage was wrapped haphazardly around his upper arm. What had once been a pristine suit was now torn and stained by dirt and blood. Blood that, she was painfully aware, did not belong to _him_. He seemed both very tired and very worried, and not sure exactly which he felt more strongly. Though judging by the way he ran a hand through tangled hair every few minutes, worry seemed to be winning out.

"Are you okay?" he continued, trying covertly to eye her obvious wounds.

"I've been better; how is Kouno?" Misaki said just as the ambulance flipped on its sirens and lights and sped out of the mayhem.

Watching it go, Saitou replied in a tight voice, "Still breathing. EMT said the branch breaking instead of being pulled out may have saved his life…though he's still…it doesn't look good."

"What about you?" Misaki motioned toward his arm, swallowing back the apprehension.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, "we should get going to the hospital; the doctors will want to take a look at you too. I'll drive." He added, again taking in her unfortunate state.

"I have to call Chief Kichida," she said abruptly as Saitou tried to help her toward his car. Reaching into her pocket for her phone, on removing her hand she found herself holding what appeared to be a mangled mess of circuitry. Apparently, her clothing hadn't been the only things to suffer in the fight.

Staring morosely at the broken device, Misaki did her best not to let a sudden wave of irrational emotion take over. It was just a _phone_, no need to get _weepy_.

"Here, use mine," Saitou said, pulling her from her reverie.

"Thanks," she replied, and, realizing she had stopped walking, forced herself back into motion.

Dialing the Chief's number, Misaki found that a certain amount of dread had tightened her throat. In placing her in a leading role, Kichida had trusted her with his team. Allowing her the responsibility to direct their actions and get the job done. As well as keep them safe in doing so, a task she had, unequivocally, failed. The anxiety of informing him of Kouno's condition and the reality they now faced at what had happened in the Park, however, dissipated when his phone went straight to voicemail.

Confused, Misaki listened with furrowed brow as Kichida's recorded voice informed her of his obvious unavailability and the necessity of leaving a message should he need to get back to her. Only distantly was she even aware of opening the passenger door to Saitou's cruiser and climbing into the seat. Too focused on the fact that Kichida had _not answered his phone_, especially so soon after beginning the mission the New Syndicate had demanded of them. She knew it was probably wishful thinking, wondering if perhaps his phone had simply died. Though even then, surely he would have told someone to notify her or his team if he'd had to turn it off, or leave it behind.

"What's wrong?" Saitou said after she had left a brief message.

"Nothing, it's probably nothing," Misaki muttered, staring at the blank cell screen. Then, almost of their own accord, her fingers dialed another number.

"Hello?"

"Kanami, it's me," Misaki said, trying to ignore the minor slur to her own words.

"Misaki! What's wrong with you? I tried calling you a little while ago; we just had some major star activity that you –"

"I know, we'll talk about it later. Right now I need your help," Misaki said, cutting into whatever her friend had been about to tell her.

"Why? Wait, what happened? You sound funny," Kanami said, excitement dimming into concern.

"Saitou and I are heading toward…" Misaki paused, looking toward Saitou.

"Seibo," he said quietly, glancing her direction.

"Seibo Hospital. Kouno's hurt, and I can't reach Kichida. Could you try?" Misaki finished with a telltale warble, and winced when her friend practically screamed.

"Seibo _Hospital_? Misaki, I thought I told you to call me if something happened!" Kanami exclaimed, "Are _you_ hurt?"

"I _am_ calling you," Misaki replied, gracelessly avoiding the question. "Would you _please_ try to get a hold of Chief Kichida for me?"

"Otsuka told me he forgot his phone at the office; you know, back when _I_ tried calling _you_," Kanami snapped.

"My phone's broken, I'm using Saitou's" Misaki said with only a hint of exasperation. All she wanted to do was pinch the bridge of her nose to stop the headache that had begun to form. But with one hand out of commission, and the other holding the phone, all she could do was sink into the passenger seat.

"God damn it, Misaki! I'm coming to Seibo! I'll pick up Otsuka on the way; she's got all the information you'll probably want, and I don't know, maybe Kichida will be back by the time I get there," Kanami growled, voice fading in an out as she rushed to do just that.

"Thank you. And Kanami?" Misaki asked, closing her eyes against a blush at the favor she was forced to request, lowering her voice, "could you bring me a change of clothes?"

"I'll be there in less than half an hour," Kanami replied sharply, and hung up.

Handing Saitou back his phone, Misaki took the opportunity then to push up her glasses and massage the space between her eyes with forefinger and thumb. Her mind flickered with everything she had yet to do, was going to do, what she _should_ do, as well as, in some cases, what she should have done. The papers in her jacket pocket quickly working to occupy a larger portion of her thoughts into what her next step would be.

The very slips she had taken from the Black Reaper. The note that had told him where to go, and the photo that had indicated as to why. By themselves, they were mysterious, alarming, and a little aggravating. The insignia painted on the picture of the Gold Nebula, however, added in a sense of apprehension and suspicion. She had only seen it three times that she could remember, though it had taken a while to connect the emblem to none other than Madame Oreille.

That fact, among a few others, was something she was going to have to think about before admitting them to anybody, including Kichida. For if Madame Oreille had been involved in what had happened to Kouno and Saitou, there was no telling who else may have been. Or who else, in Oreille's case, had been coerced or forced into playing her games. The fact Kichida had not answered his phone even put _him_ under suspicion, and he was the most straight-laced person she knew. Then there was the Director, and anyone under his employ.

_Anybody_ could have been in on what happened at Mejirodai, and she had to consider the possibility it may have been a set up. Deliberately put together to, perhaps, eliminate her and her team. Which meant anything and anyone was fair game. Just like the Tokyo Explosion. Just like the Hell's Gate Incident. Only this time, Misaki was not going to roll with the punches. This time, if she found out it had been premeditated, if she discovered they had known all along what would happen to them, she would handle it.

Because now it was _personal_.

****((DTB))****

Once Chief Kichida Toru reached more populated portions of Tokyo, he flipped on sirens and lights, speeding through the mildly busy streets mostly unhindered. When another car did not get out of his way fast enough he'd honk and swerve wildly into oncoming traffic. Barely missing not only other drivers, but pedestrians, trees, curbs, and light poles. Yet through it all, he managed to, if only just, remain within the limits of vehicular safety laws. Enough so that his behavior could easily be misconstrued as desperation to get where he was going.

Which he was; though not in a way as indicated by the usual sight of a police car speeding through town. It was not a life-and-death emergency situation he was heading to deal with or help alleviate. Not in the conventional sense.

Behind him his decidedly American passenger alternated between loud shouts of rage and cries of panic. Every so often he'd toss in a question. Where he was going, who Kichida was, how the policeman had found him. None of which the Chief of Section 4 was inclined to answer. The less the man knew, the better – and vice versa. It was the reason Kichida had refrained entirely from asking anything besides basic enquiries into the task Oreille had manipulated him into performing. Thus, all he knew of the American was that he was a Contractor, and where he was supposed to take him after apprehending him using the tools the Madame had provided Kichida with. No other information was necessary.

Slowing when he neared his destination, Kichida shut off the lights and sirens completely as he turned a corner, coming to a silent stop in front of what appeared to be nothing more than the average Tokyo home. Small, plain, and crammed between similar looking buildings. Something he'd expect a regular, tax-paying family man to walk into. Not the meeting place for an officer, a detainee, and cunning information broker.

While glancing furtively at the buildings around him Kichida half pushed, half dragged the American Contractor towards the house. Not seeing anybody watching them from the sidewalk or a window he still felt no better. Fortunately, however, his…_hostage_ made little noise other than irate grumblings. Clearly, finally, having figured out he was not going to get anything other than a one-sided conversation.

On reaching the door, before he was able to knock or ring the bell, it was opened by a lean young woman in a plain white tank top and baggy black jeans. She had an indiscernible array of tattoos up and down her arms and dipping beneath her shirt collar, the most prominent of which were located to either side of her eyes consisting of silver-blue star shapes. Her hair was very short and black and her eyes were very green – and unequivocally emotionless. As strong a signifier as any that Kichida was further in the presence of Contractors. A fact he was _not_ overly concerned with.

"Toru Kichida?" she asked with a vaguely European accent.

Ignoring her informality, the Chief nodded after a quick look assured him the American did not recognize the name.

At his affirmation she stepped aside and motioned him to enter, which he did with little hesitation.

The room was small and decorated more for show than for living. It was too clean, the furniture too precisely placed. But he hardly noticed any of it, pushing the American into the room in front of him. Glaring at the center cushion of a couch where Madame Oreille had seated herself. Wearing what appeared to be a violet evening gown, of all things.

"Toru! Jacob! I'm glad you could make it," She smiled silkily, one arm crossed over her ribs to support the elbow of the arm holding a finger to her lips.

"I did what you asked; so I can only assume our association is now over," Kichida said firmly, eyes flickering towards the young woman as she pulled the rather pale-looking American away from him and began to drag him into the kitchen not far from where he stood.

"Nonsense, Toru. Your usefulness has yet to run its course, and until you decide to reveal that little secret of yours, I think I will be calling on you many times after this. For now, however, this one pretty favor is all I require," she said, and Kichida did his best not to scowl.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Oreille," he said, unable to keep the growl entirely from his voice.

"Oh, I am well aware of that, dear. Trust me when I say, however, that the means will justify the end…at least for me," she replied smoothly, quirking an amused eyebrow.

"And what would that end be?" he asked, knowing she was unlikely to reveal anything to him.

"You can go now, Toru. If I need anything, I know where to find you," she smiled deviously, waving towards the open door behind him.

For a moment Kichida considered shooting her. No matter how many puppets she had dangling from the strings around her fingertips, surely she had angered more than she'd pleased. If he killed her, no one would blame him for it. No one would even know it had been him to do it. He'd probably have to get rid of the two Contractors in the kitchen, too, though that would hardly present much of a problem either.

Yet he was already standing on a dangerous precipice as it was. Shooting her would not improve his own chances of survival in the least. Not to mention he _was_ curious, and told himself that was the real reason he did not eliminate one of his problems then and there.

Turning, he made to leave but was called back by the singsong tones of Madame Oreille's voice.

"Oh, and Toru, you may want to turn your phone back on. Something tells me you will want to hear the message."

Bristling slightly, Kichida clenched his fists tighter at his sides and said nothing in response. Instead storming out of the house, leaving the door open behind him as he headed toward his car. Dropping into the driver's seat, he considered ignoring her advice but found himself unable. Starting the engine, and pulling his cell from his pocket to turn it back on.

Immediately his voicemail popped onto the screen, showing he had missed calls from both Kirihara and Director Kobayashi. Bringing it to his ear, he pulled away from Oreille's meeting spot and headed toward the Bureau. As he listened to the message, however, he flipped on sirens and lights and whipped around, cutting off oncoming traffic to head in the opposite direction. Toward Seibo Hospital.

Ignoring the alarmed honks of the people around him, he only vaguely remembered the second message from Kobayashi once the first had ended. He was only marginally relieved that the message was similar to the one he had just listened to, coming from the Director of the New Syndicate hardly fifteen minutes after Kirihara's, and only a few minutes before Kichida had reawakened his phone.

_Something_ had happened at Mejirodai Sports Park, injuring his team, though specifics were not forthcoming. An unfortunate reality brought about by merely listening to messages, rather than answering them. Immediately his annoyance toward Oreille intensified, knuckles turning white as he gripped his steering wheel.

Whatever had happened, whatever he was heading towards, he would make sure Oreille regretted it. He had no doubt she had been involved. After all, it was at the Park that Kichida had picked up the American Contractor. Only now he realized that, perhaps in doing so, he had involved himself on the wrong side of a case that had suddenly grown far deeper, and there was no telling what the results of his actions would be.

**End Chapter 13**

_Darker than Black – I'm still here AMV_

_By: FmaAlphonseHeiderich_


End file.
